Part of the Band

She was part of the Air Force, I was part of the band I always used to bust into her hand In my, my, my imagination I was living my best life, living with my parents Way before the paying penance and verbal propellants And my, my, my cancellations, hm, yeah And I fell in love with a boy, it was kinda lame I was Rimbaud and he was Paul Verlaine In my, my, my imagination So many cringes in the heroin binges I was coming off the hinges, living on the fringes Of my, my, my imagination, oh, yeah Enough about me now "You gotta talk about the people, baby" (But that's kind of the idea) At home, somewhere I don't like Eating stuff off of motorbikes Cumming to her lookalikes I can't get the language right Just tell me what's unladylike I know some "Vaccinista tote bag chic baristas" Sitting east on their communista keisters Writing about their ejaculations "I like my men like I like my coffee Full of soy milk and so sweet, it won't offend anybody" Whilst staining the pages of the nation, oh, yeah A Xanax and a Newport "Well, I take care of my kids," she said The worst inside of us begets That feeling on the internet It's like someone intended it (Like advertising cigarettes) A diamond in the rough begets The diamond with a scruff you get Am I ironically woke? The butt of my joke? Or am I just some post-coke, average, skinny bloke Calling his ego imagination? I've not picked up that in a thousand four hundred days And nine hours and sixteen minutes, babe It's kind of my daily iteration