the ode I scream nightly from my second floor window
Lament for a Honda Civic year 1996
A modest album, only 24 tracks long
Had Morrisey whining from song to song
Is now, so sadly, long long gone.
I'll really miss The Smiths' Louder Than Bombs
My Polaroid camera that had been shoved
Under the seat beside one glove
Of a pair I adored, is no longer loved,
But cruisin' with a thug (well, kind of)
The bag of croissants - my breakfast, alas -
Was the most tempting thing behind the glass.
Like it was the two stereos? Come on, my ass.
The worst part is we had just gotten gas.
I don't miss the car, we have another, you see
It's the fact there's a junkie driving with glee
With my shit next to him in the passenger seat.
I'll angrily grind my teeth this whole week.
So be weary when you park on the forty-first block;
And don't you be fooled by the numerous cops.
For our neighbors are after that chemical rock
And the best way to get it's by busting your lock.
A modest album, only 24 tracks long
Had Morrisey whining from song to song
Is now, so sadly, long long gone.
I'll really miss The Smiths' Louder Than Bombs
My Polaroid camera that had been shoved
Under the seat beside one glove
Of a pair I adored, is no longer loved,
But cruisin' with a thug (well, kind of)
The bag of croissants - my breakfast, alas -
Was the most tempting thing behind the glass.
Like it was the two stereos? Come on, my ass.
The worst part is we had just gotten gas.
I don't miss the car, we have another, you see
It's the fact there's a junkie driving with glee
With my shit next to him in the passenger seat.
I'll angrily grind my teeth this whole week.
So be weary when you park on the forty-first block;
And don't you be fooled by the numerous cops.
For our neighbors are after that chemical rock
And the best way to get it's by busting your lock.