There's a man

Hanging by his pants seat

While the moon

Is hanging over 4th street

People stop and look at him

They think they understand

They know that you're loaded

And you're crazy

And they think you're stupid

You can trust me

I'm your best friend

Now's the time to leave

Before he breaks your nose

Rips your clothes

Makes you bleed

It's okay

I've got money for a taxi

Yeah

The people in the crowd

They're just a bunch of creeps

Just the same

You shouldn't blame

Your problems on the Greeks

Cuz it looks like you need stitches

And that lip won't heal for weeks

Hey don't fall asleep

Your nose bleed on my lap

Hey lean against the window

Hey nevermind

Come back

Alan Alan Alan Alan

Sorry Mr Kessler

Searched his pockets

No key there

Yeah somebody hit him

Help me drag him up the stair

Kessler takes a look at us

He thinks he understands

He knows that we're loaded

And we're crazy

And he thinks you're stupid

I prop you at your typewriter

A broomstick up your shirt

I lay your hands across the keys

Ah s**t I'm suck a jerk

You've got to be a fighter

The problem with the world is

They don't know

That you're a writer

Alan Alan Alan Alan

You get next

To me