Part Of The Band

She was part of the air force I was part of the band I always used to bust into her hand In my my my imagination I was living my best life Living with my parents Way before the paying penance and verbal propellants And my my my cancellations And I fell in love with a boy, it was kinda lame I was Rimbaud and he was Paul Verlaine In my my my imagination So many cringes in the heroin binges, I was coming off the hinges, Living on the fringes of my my my imagination Enough about me now ‘You gotta talk about the people, baby' Now I'm at home - somewhere I don't like Eating stuff off of motorbikes Coming to her lookalikes I can't get the language right Just tell me what's unladylike I know some ‘Vaccinista tote bag chic baristas' sitting in east on their communista keisters writing about their ejaculations I like my men like I like my coffee Full of soy milk and so sweet it won't offend anybody whilst staining the pages of the nation A Xanax and a Newport ‘I take care of my kids' she said The worst inside of us begets that feeling on the internet It's like someone intended it A diamond in the rough begets the diamond with a scruff you get Am I ironically woke? The butt of my joke? Or am I just some post-coke, average, skinny bloke calling his ego imagination? I've not picked up that in 1,400 days and 9 hours and 16 minutes babe - it's kind of my daily iteration