Children, Broadripple is burning
And the girls are getting sick
Off huffing glue up in the bathroom
While your boyfriends pick up chicks.
And darling I'm lost.
And everything that I loved
Has turned to stone.
So pack your bags and come back home.
And there was love inside the basement
Where that woman used to lie
In a sleeping bag we shared upon
The floor almost every night.
And darling I'm drunk,
And everything that I have loved has turned to stone.
So pack your bags and come back home.
And I'm wasted.
And you can taste it.
Don't look at me that way,
'Cause I'll be hanging from a rope.
I will haunt you like a ghost.
If my woman was a fire,
She'd burn out before I wake,
And be replaced by pints of whiskey,
Cigarettes, and outer space.
Then somebody moves
And everything that I loved has turned to shit.
We've got a lot.
Don't you ever forget that.
And I wrote this on an airplane where people looked like ants.
And when a woman that you loved is gone,
She was bombing East Japan.
Don't fucking move,
'Cause everything I loved has turned to shit.
We've got a lot.
Don't you dare forget that.
And I'm wasted.
And you can taste it.
Don't look at me that way,
'Cause I'll be hanging from a rope.
I will haunt you like a ghost.
And I'm wasted.
And you can taste it.
Don't look at me that way,
'Cause I'll be hanging from a rope.
And I will haunt you like a ghost.

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