Here's the lyrics of Kimya Dawson's beer song. She sang this one Sunday. She wrote this about her years in substance abuse. She was living in a self-imposed hell. Yet, a generation is walking away from the Church because we've failed to communicate.
The beer I had for breakfast was a bottle of Mad Dog
and my 20/20 vision was fifty percent off.
He said "Punch-buggy red" and punched me right in my left eye.
I said "Don't you mean pediddle?" and I lit his house on fire.
He came home on acid, I was holding his shotgun,
I was dressed like Tina Turner in Beyond Thunder Dome.
He said "Don't shoot", I said "I won't, I love you, you're my friend."
I handed him my wig and shot myself in the head.
Then I stuffed a box of tissues in the hole in my skull,
I got in my Mazda and I drove to the mall.
I bought a big johnson shirt and some silicone tits.
When I pulled out the tissues they were covered with shit.
And the beer I had for breakfast was a box of cheap white wine,
and the boom box on my shoulder was a box of clementines.
I ate every single one without noticing the mold.
You said "You're gross my darling," I said "No I'm rock and roll."
Even though I'd never ever been in a band
I got "cool as black ice" tattooed on my hand
and the Christians gave me comic books as if I would be scared
of burning in Hell, well I was already there.
And the beer I had for breakfast, silver bullet in the brain,
and the beer I had for lunch was a bottle of night train,
and the beer I had for dinner was my crazy neighbor's pills.
We had to sit down on skateboards just to make it down the hill.
Then I peed my pants and you stole the groom's cigar,
and some old man made me watch him masturbate locked in his car.
When I got back to the apartment you were face down on the floor,
you said "Don't go to bed yet, let's go get a 64."
And the beer I had for breakfast was a pint of Jim Beam,
and a fifth of peach schnapps and some warm Sunny D.
And you said "Bottoms up" just as I bottomed out.
I tried to scream "Fuck you" but blood was pouring out my mouth.
And Evan Dando never planned on telling you the truth,
and your Leonardo I.D. card is your fountain of youth.
You can be a teenager for your whole fucking life,
just find some pretty sucker and make that bitch your wife.
I guess by now you all know my friend Danny broke his neck;
he was driving home from Sirens when he got into a wreck.
First I cried for him, and then I cried for me,
haunted by the ghost of the girl I used to be.
But the rocks with holes are warm in my hands,
and I buried my toes in the hot, hot sand,
and the silver pink pony kisses me and says
"You've come a long, long way and you deserve to be really happy."