Testo Curb Feelers

Every day starts off the same
I wake up looking for my brain
It’s not at the beach
It’s not in my bed the panic sets in that I might be dead
Someone call 911
Mirror mirror on the wall will I pass out in the bathroom stall?
I write the songs that no one sings
You got no idea what kind of pressure that brings Someone call LA Times
Rebel becomes routine
And now you’re dying like the punk scene
So who’s the lucky one tonight
Don’t know what i want
But I know what I like someone call Elvira