For Amy

Tonight you took the long way home
Wired tighter than your cellular phone
Searching G-d's green earth
For some original sin
Another weekend
Drowning in the dust bin

And all the things you do alone
How do they help you now?
You take the money or your life
All that's left is a countdown
To the final clock out

Like poor Amy dead and gone
And 27 years isn't long
And it's a hard pill to swallow
But an easy rabbit hole for a junkie
Turned cultural icon

Oh Amy, no, no no
Folks these days don't have souls
And on a Saturday, you should have known
That all these clones
Are playing shows of their own
Yeah, all these clones
Are playing shows of their own
Well, I won't go

Here's to you, Amy
Another singing ghost
It's a shame to know
Your generation hung you for your illness
On their bullshit wall posts
But that's the way that it is
And I think it's most sad for those kids
Growing up with nothing real to hear
Except the ringing in their ears
After a violent parade of advertisements
There are no more heroes
Nor am I sure there ever should have been
But here's to the fuck ups
With any degree of sincere passion

Oh Amy, no, no, no
Folks these days don't have soul
And on a Saturday
You know, you should have known
That all these clones
Are playing shows of their own
Yeah, all these clones
Are playing shows of their own
Oh yeah, all these clones
Are playing shows of their own

Well, I won't go