| Tonight the city is full of… radios |
| and all the distortion pedals are melted |
| there’s Sonic Youth posters nailed up onto the… ceiling |
| and the roof is falling down on my brain |
| that’s why |
| I got no mind |
| I got no mind |
| got no mind |
| somebody burned down the picnic |
| and somebody kissed their own ass by mistake |
| and the cliches are gettin eaten up |
| by the termites with the malt liquor |
| and the guitar tuners and the Pussy Galore song |
| that’s why |
| I play all night |
| I got no mind |
| feel so fine |
| and the big radio sound is pumping up and down |
| jumpin thru the hoops |
| making every motion seem like forever |
| there’s air conditioning and brand new nails |
| and phone calls from people in Chicago |
| …why |
| pay no mind |
| got no mind |
| stay outside |
| so turn up the levels |
| and talk to your devils |
| and bust out your tennis shoes and your mayonnaise |
| it’s all the situations and all the celebrations |
| and all the contaminations that make you |
| breed off the carpet |
| that’s why |
| I pay no mind |
| (cough) got no mind |
| might need a cough drop |
| well there’s verses and sounds |
| falling like pounds and pounds of |
| sand weights from the heavens |
| and she dangles like a bottle |
| talkin thru the steering wheels |
| and broken pantyhose |
| that’s why |
| I pay no mind |
| sleep in slime |
| put out CDs |
| the amplifiers are amplifying |
| the things that you never knew |
| could ever be the same as you |
| there’s wires and plugs |
| and slugs slithering out into the paint thinner |
| that’s why |
| I pay no mind |
| I pay no mind |
| got no mind |
| your swivel chairs and sunglasses |
| and your fully-blown out scenes of ecstasy |
| turn up the volume and the treble |
| and call them all the nasty things that you can |
| stick into your paper |
| with your pen |
| shove your pen up into the air |
| write everything and |
| like you just don’t care |
| but it feels good |
| when you pull off the scenery |
| and there’s puppets and dollar bills |
| and there’s weight-loss pills |
| and there’s cherries and there’s potato chips |
| and the time is runnin low |
| and there’s nowhere else to go |
| so let’s go down |
| 666 up into |
| I’m raising all my lows |
| and I’m lowering all my disappointments |