This neighborhood has crashed and burned, I brought death to them all through a home-made hurricane
Armed with scissors, fire and booze,
I wiped this goth town clean, and left a pool of mascara and blood
Little miss evil, didn't someone tell you that you life its more than just bats and graveyards, you dream of Marilyn but just like Cave In said,
"the reality check is in the mail"
Last call, first wave, they should have called you, everything is up for sale now
Reality is a bitter pill you swallow to grow up, I guess by now you should have known you've all been fucked
These so-called freaks are signing multi-million dollar deals, bats and graveyards are obviously up for sale
So never mind the fact that you are haunted 'cause all of you ghosts have sneaker brands and cribs in the hill
I guess your checks have bounced, still you sing along, well misery loves company