Bless the Dead

I don’t wanna go outside
Its way too cold
I don’t wanna be your friend
You’re getting old
I don’t wanna go to the mall
Cause I’d rather die
I’m having fun in my room
I think I’ll stay inside
I keep it dark
I watch the tube
I hang with Joe
I get some sleep
I burn a stove
I play with dust
I draw some blood
I claim religion
I open a window
I free a dove
I talk to God
I bless the dead
I play the drums
Then I wreck my bed
Transcend with starman
And pop pills with Frankenstein
I don’t wanna be your friend
Nuh uh no way
I don’t wanna hang around
I’d rather stay
I don’t wanna hang with the geeks
I’m a real freak
I just wanna skip this town
So c’est la vie