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lirik lagu fuck the new yorker – kleenex girl wonder

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f*ck the new yorker and sasha frere*jones
i dug up a few of austin osman spare’s bones
made some incantations
now i’m walking with a ghost
you’d think this was the end of days
but we’re not even close. so baby

f*ck the new yorker; what do they know?
they haven’t seen your grimoire
or your broadway show
they just sit in 4 times square, smoking weed and making jokes
meanwhile, you’re resigned to writing rhymes for wizards of the coast…
so if you don’t give ’em any credence, i won’t
some may think that they’re elitist; i don’t
it’s just like jeez
this happens every f*cking week –
i can’t count the hours i’ve lost to
alex ross instead of sleep. so

f*ck james thurber & donald barthelme
the dadgum bygone past is just that:
so far away
now it’s all about the art collection of
anfernee hardaway
jazz and standards, shouts and murmurs
nothing left to say

yeah
f*ck the new yorker!
i’d rather watch tv
pay a few cents to breeze through adverts
targeted at me
cor, those sh*ll and ghurka placements must cost several tens of g’s!
never mind the kind of scratch you need to pay john ashbery’s v.o. fee…

things have changed;
we’re through the looking glass
i’m late for my brain*cleansing and cooking class
plus that piece on bahrain, it really whooped my ass
i haven’t even touched the sunday times;
i need something good and fast, so
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
that’s how it goes

f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
f*ck the new yorker
and sasha frere*jones

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