Lyrics

I'll crack my head Then pour in some sorrow I stole some things from you I could have easily borrowed When you were pissed and on the rag I waited around but now I'm packing my bags To live on a street in Hollywood Will they love me there? I'll be a boy in a magazine I'll mean nothing to you You'll mean nothing to me You asked to go so I guess that I'll leave And just be a boy in a magazine I won't have a bed I'll still have my string stained hand I call home where animals are buried in the backyard