Everyone says I need singing lessons
Project from your chest, John,
Not from your throat
I get better with every note
Girlfriends say I gotta treat them better,
That I project my problems on them
I guarantee that this is true
There's absolutely nothing I can do
Except run away, in front of the TV screen all day
I ain't looking for love,
But maybe it'll find us curled up like snails in the sun
So turn the house lights off,
We're doing one more song
For the kid riding bitch in the van with his mom
Hey, that's me
The workboard says I'm a diverse, young candidate
That I can bring creativity to their crew
Dude, I just wanna make ten dollars an hour
So I can go to Amoeba Records and buy colored vinyl
That I'll never play, or vintage t-shirts
Maybe some novels that I'll get half-way through
Or imported DVD's with subtitles, too
I'm hitting on the same girl at the NYU bookstore
Oh my God, not again
I ain't looking for love,
But maybe it'll find us curled up like snails in the sun
So turn the house lights off,
We're doing one more song
For the kid riding bitch in the van with his mom
And they'll be singing,
1, 2, 3, 4
New York City was cooler five years ago
Before the yuppies and their cell phones
And the scene kids with their haircuts
New York City was cooler five years ago...