well we can do just what we please, but we can never turn on the heat.
and every night's a blackout in this place. we get the bills, but we don't pay. no, we don't pay.
and i guess you're right because all of my friends are drug addicts!
and i guess you're right because this really is a pretty gross matress!
but i'd rather sleep with junkies than with angels, as the moonlight turns all of us to werewolves.
and sunrise, it's just a gorgeous bedtime, the way the light hits the cheap wine.

well i can do just what i want, and that's get drunk in Vermont.
down by the bridge with the Colt 45, sipping and watching them pigs drive by, drive by.
and i guess you're right, because we're just a bunch of alcoholics!
and i guess you're right, because we ain't taking down the system tomorrow!
but sometimes anarchy should mean burning a black flag, and utopia should mean no paper bags,
and maybe our hundred drunk mistakes could add up to smash the state, smash the state..

smash the state! and i hope that is the case, because otherwise we'll never
get out of this place!