Too School For Cool

Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not taking a moral stand here
I’m not trying to be a good role model, and
I’m not trying look after myself, or to stand against an unethical and self-destructive lifestyle,
I’m just not that into sex and drugs and rock and roll.

It’s not that I wouldn’t like to be
It’s just that I’m boring.
I want to be the kind of person to throw a TV out of a hotel window
But I don’t want to have to pay for it later
And I would probably feel like a jerk afterwards.

I don’t even know where to get drugs
And I hear they can be pretty expensive, anyway.
Marijuana smoke makes me cough
And I am left confused by the strange glass devices,
And I would look pretty stupid with dreadlocks.

I want to be addicted to something
Other than computer games and wanking.
I want to go out in the scunge and dinge.
I want to get my kicks like a rockstar, full of chemically induced hedonism
But I hear Left 4 Dead 2 is pretty good.

Don’t get me wrong.
I wanna be the kind of person
To pump my music loud and annoy my neighbors,
But my speakers distort pretty bad if I turn them up too much
And I can’t afford new ones.

I want to stick it to the Man.
I want to be a revolutionary,
But I can’t help but think that politicians are people too
And that they are probably doing their best
And that their parents are probably very proud of them.

I want to want to rock.
I want to be hardcore, on the edge,
Outrageous, extreme, underground and raw,
But I always liked the Beatles more than the Rolling Stones.
And I’m not really into much of this new stuff.

Also, I want to have a lot of sex.
I want to have lots of sex with lots of girls,
And I want them to love it. I want to be a stud,
But I’m usually not very comfortable with strangers
And with my friends it would be weird.

Don’t get me wrong.
I don’t want it to be special.
I want deprived, dirty, rock-star sex
With girls whose names I can’t even remember,
But I’m much too shy, not very smooth and I get very nervous.

I want it to be degrading,
Probably the kind where one of us cries
When it’s all over, and there is a sneaking
Suspicion that they might be tears of relief.
I want it to be nasty and meaningless.

I’m not afraid of diseases
Or overdoses, or emotional damage.
I want all of that.
I want to die tragically at a young age
Like Charlie Parker, or Jim Morrison

But I’d have to do it after my parents die first
I don’t want to upset them
And my Mum would be very disappointed with me.
Also, I hear liver failure is very painful
And I don’t cope well with pain.

Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not suicidal.
I wish I was, though.
I want to be a troubled youth, completely misunderstood,
Dark and brooding and melancholy.

But I’ve got nothing really to be miserable about.
I could try being miserable
About that fact that I want to be miserable,
But that would be stupid
And not very dark or troublesome at all.

I want the sex
And the drugs
And the rock and roll
And to be disrespectful, self-destructive, wild and revolutionary,
But the kettle's nearly boiled.

I’m making a cup of tea.