Greased

[Verse 1]

All the Southern fried boys wind up greased

And burn to buy the West Coast or the East

They tatter their clothes and drown in irony

Robbed of something young, thus incomplete

They fade into the liberal bourgeoisie

Their hatred now inflamed to stoke your daughter's screams

And ramble about Trump over Stellas

And headline Coachella

[Verse 2]

And everything they told me was wrong

Is still in my heart to turn me on

My ego is built on all my pain

I'm your migraine

I somehow became a feminist

When ten years ago I was feeding drinks

To women, I'd laugh at when they'd think

Amongst my friends

It's such a lie