I Don’t Want To Be On TV

Beat by beat, as Becky falls to sleep
She sits in her electric chair and watches the TV
And it’s so quiet here tonight,
She looks skinny in the light
In her underwear, her face so fair,
She’s higher than a kite
She says, “Well, what about me?
Am I dying silently?
Have you ever wanted anything so bad you couldn’t see?”

No-oh-ho. No-oh-ho, not me. No-oh-ho, I don’t want to be on TV.

And the man down at the TV station cracks his knuckles bare
He is staring at a woman, she is staring back at him
You could cut the tension with a knife
“We’re expecting rain tonight.
There’s a weather system blowing in from Santa Ana all night.”
She thinks, “Well what about me? So what you’re on TV
I don’t care about your pompous ass, I care about this baby.”

No-oh-ho. No-oh-ho, not me. No-oh-ho, I don’t want to be on TV.

Everyone in this city seems to take it like a drug
Sit up all night, faces so white, they just can’t get enough
And these shows are all the same,
There’s something I can’t name
All the snickering on this flickering screen,
The noise numbing my brain

So I think, well, what about me?
Will I just die silently?
With all these walls and bars and endless whores,
just dying next to me?

No-oh-ho. No-oh-ho, not me. No-oh-ho, I don’t want to be on TV.
No-oh-ho. No-oh-ho, not me. No-oh-ho. No-oh-ho.