Through the Windshield, Holding Hands - Direct Hit!

His girlfriend’s at wit’s end, but they want to try again

He’s tried to ask how do they make some breakup mutual

It’s not like they could write a note then climb on a bike,

Ride into the wide blue and forget what they’ve been through

She’s a bitch and he’s a dick

She makes him sick, he makes her frantic

So faking like they’ll ride into the sunset’s not romantic

So what should they do?

Could they just shut up?

They’ve withstood barbs, lances, sharp glances

Still go to shrinks, not dances

It’s not my fault that I think suicide’s a far cry from useless

Confucius would say «fuck this,"chalk deuces

She thinks their relationship could use an injection of commitment

So how 'bout brains on pavement?

Permanent’s an understatement

So how do I go through this shit?

No, I’m not used to fights, bashes, wounds, gashes

Heartbreak, attacks, rematches

Not to say I’m OK

I’ve shown my share of contained enragement

Adjacent to their tear-filled complacence

I think they should take some time to be apart, reflect, rewind

But that’s no option when they both say that they’re fine

Fuck this, I’m not taking it

This song’s devoted to commitment

We’re sick of all the whining, no one cares, no one can stand it

An automatic rifle in their mouth’s the best prescription

We’re all so glad we’ve come to such an eloquent decision

So thank you, your undue attention’s helped me see who I care for:

Myself more than them

Just try to ignore my portents

Important life lessons aren’t absorbent, like towels or bowels

I’m too drunk to form vowels