The endless line of Subarus
Stalled in our fathers' avenues
Throngs of bongs, a bag of shrooms
I'm sleeping when I look at you

Beneath your tattooed, sweaty stew
In faded ink of Prussian blue
The skin pulled tight on wooden drums
Granola kids are just having fun

But I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more

Neon girls who don't react
Sign electronic suicide pacts
Drive-thru nights in greasy hues
I'm lonely when I'm next to you

Those boys are fucking terrible
Marxist Americans, a parable
I burned my outdoor-rec degree
My mother's dating divorcees

And I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more

What's my Muslim name today?
I invent religious holidays
We resurrected Kurt Cobain
housebreaking all his dusty cliches

And I'm not having fun
I'm not having fun no more