He’s the Brat

He's the brat with the sterilized pitchfork, he's the singer of the Beachwood Sparks
He's a dreamy, kind-of-cheesy companion piece who wants to show me where the healing starts
Beauty is evil, immaculate evil, don't you think? But I'm lost in the flames of a grand explosion, stumbling in the neon groves

Ladies flock to the overnight discos, slamming vodka tonics down their throats
While your older brother's company's publicist is sliding off his mama's pantyhose
Beauty is evil, immaculate evil, don't you think? But I'm mopping up stains from a blood transfusion, stumbling in the neon groves

Oh, the pleasures of the morning are simple, but the treasures are the sweetest I've known
Oh, I'm just so excited to look through my new eyes -- the needles are covered with snow

So take me down to the winterland bombshell factory; you can hear the mermaids groan
On the double-breasted coconut seashell, half-wrecked bus to Yankee Stadium
Beauty is evil, I like to be evil, can't you see? But I'm lost in the flames of a grand explosion, stumbling in the neon groves