Rat A Tat

Rise and shine cult campers
Let’s put our faith back in mayhem
We are every old broken toy born again and again
As we turn the hype into hope
We silence the noise
We are the splinter under the world’s fingernail
As we turn the diamonds back into coal
It’s Courtney, bitch
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
No thesis existed for burning cities down at such a rampant rate
No graphics and no fucking PowerPoint presentation
So they just DIY’d that shit and they built their own bombs
She’s his suicide blond, she’s never been gold
Are you ready for another bad poem?
One more off-key anthem
Let your teeth sink in
Remember me as I was not as I am
And I said, «I'll check in tomorrow if I don’t wake up dead,»
I kept wishing she had blonde ambition and she’d let it go to my head
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
My love is a weapon
There’s no second guessing when I say
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
My heart is a grenade
You pull the pin and say:
We’re all fighting growing old
We’re all fighting growing old
In the hopes
Of a few minutes more
To get, get on St. Peter’s list
But you need to lower your standards
'Cause it’s never
Getting any better than this
We are professional ashes of roses
This kerosene’s live
You settled your score
This is where you come to beg, unborn and unshaven
Killing fields of fire to a congress of ravens
This is what we do, baby, we nightmare you
I’m about to make your sweat roll backwards
And your heart beat in reverse
Our guts can’t be reworked
As alone as a little white church in the middle of the desert
Getting burned
But I’ll take your heart served up two ways
I sing a bitter song
I’m the lonelier version of you
I just don’t know where it went wrong
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
My love is a weapon
There’s no second guessing when I say
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
If my heart is a grenade
You pull the pin and say:
We’re all fighting growing old
We’re all fighting growing old
In the hopes
Of a few minutes more
To get, get on St. Peter’s list
But you need to lower your standards
'Cause it’s never
Getting any better than this
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
It’s never
Getting any better than this
She’s sick and she’s wrong
She’s young dirty blonde
And you sink inside her like a suicide bomb
He says, «I've seen bigger.»
She says, «I've lit better.»
And they throw the matches down into the glitter
Not a dry eye left in the house
Go boy, go boy, run for your life
Go boy, go boy, run for your life
Go boy, go boy, run for your life
We’re all fighting growing old
We’re all fighting growing old
In the hopes
Of a few minutes more
To get, get on St. Peter’s list
But you need to lower your standards
'Cause it’s never
Getting any better than this
Rat a tat tat
Rat a tat tat tat hey
It’s never
Getting any better than this
Are you ready for another bad poem?