white girl, wasted - coffin salesman lyrics
sarah moved to new york city. she wanted to be the next bukowski, chain smoke and slam a typewriter in a sh*tty williamsburg apartment. she’s read on the road three or four times, she knows all about meter and terminal. she got drunk one night and took the full moon as a sign to get out of this town while she was still alive
she’s a city girl with suburban roots, spending three hundred dollars on cowboy boots, organic coffee and painted on jeans, vintage records and amphetamines. her dad saw the ramones in the 70’s and wants his daughter to be living free, but sometimes your memories are way too close, makes it way too hard to see. and that check it comes to week to week
now she took a vow of poverty to find the true meaning of art. stealing sugar packs from the cafeteria, she figures it’s a pretty good start. and she dresses like a bum, figure she will get some pity because of her age. she thinks it’s a good case study, but there’s no glory being cold and begging for change
good times turn to sh*t. beatnik dreams turn to desk jobs pretty quick. you know what they say is true*you do a pretty good impression of you
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