I'm bored
I'm heinously bored but all the bored children have found themselves
A weekend to look forward to
I don't want entertainment
Or to eat at your table
To wait in your basement to be rung like a school bell
I need a slogan I can sleep under
I need a slogan
Cause my father was a punk rock banker watch him helter-skelter
And Burgundian pinot noir was my mother's little helper
Oh I grew up in passionate boredom
And when I was born I was thrown into boredom
Oh boredom boredom I'm bored of this talking
God you're annoying oh I'm so exhausted
Oh revery and gloom
Scented candle in my room
And dread and doom and gossip
Oh it's a racket when you Chateauneuf-du-pape-it
There is a cultural malaise in this house
I want to see the evening through
I want to crawl inside of you
What do I have to do for you to pull out all my teeth?
Isn't it fun?
Some of these days, you'll miss me honey