I'm filling the synaptic gaps inside my brain One more shot and my liver starts calling me Shane Vomit pigs and urine stalls Broken knuckles and beer, graffiti walls... If I trashed all my beliefs and plans You could be my woman and I could be your man Combat boots and overalls Anarchy love and beer, graffiti walls... Pens and walls and bathroom stalls... a potent combination The beer is cheap, the talk is too... a dead-end situation I'm hanging out talking Tom Stoppard and Travesties Lenin, James Joyce, Tristan Tzara and me We're smudging the line between the workers' calls And the petty bourgeois with beer, graffiti walls... If art is life, and life is work, then where's the workers' art? A cult of the individual has left us in the dark I'm so full of sh** it makes me drool 'Cause I learned all my Marxism in school I've got all day to write battle calls and manifestos on beer, graffiti walls... And freeing the ma**es shouldn't be so hard I'll put the whole thing on my dad's credit card Beer Grafitti, Whoa Beer Grafitti, Whoa Beer Grafitti, Whoa Beer Grafitti, Whoa I'm starting to think that life is like a sh** sandwich Because it seems to me the more bread you've got, the less sh** you have to eat And why can't people commit random acts of kindness, and senseless acts of beauty? You know, like Ramone and Louise, 100% true love forever Yeah, we're going up, yeah, we're going up, yeah, we're going up But then we're coming down, coming down, coming way, way down Too cool for school and too dumb for the real world Johnny started a band And started picking up pointers from beer, graffiti walls But if he tells me, "Die for race and nation!" I'll say, "Die, nazi scum" And, "Militant dykes kick a**!!!"