Oh my god Look at my funny fridge magnets They're so punk rock They say "cunt," and "fuck," and "bitch," and "shit" Get together now Get inside my polaroid If one more non-smoker offers me a cigarette I think I'll shoot myself in the head Oh my god, Patti Smith The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976 This is a park Filled to the brim with heroin (Heroin) This is a street Where people are mugged every day But the plus side is the Talking Heads are goin' on at 9 Ain't it so divine Oh my god, Patti Smith The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976 Oh father please don't smite me Making me grow this tiny mustache Oh mother please don't cry for me Making me wear un-prescription glasses But then I bought my first album on vinyl I don't even own a record player Oh my god Look at you You flannel-wearing piece of shit You ain't got no soul to give, heart to bleed Thanksgiving was the worst because my Nanna saw my tattoo Oh my god, Patti Smith The Velvet Underground and old jean jackets Now throw on your Chuck Taylor's and act real pissed And wish that you lived in un-gentrified New York, circa 1976