I met an anarchist in Tompkins Square Park
he was an angry man, spinning words so dark
he called for death to rich men, death to Yuppies, too
death to art f***, bourgeois blacks, death to landlord Jews!
Kill the bankers, kill the cops, kill
him her and me, kill them all for CBS, NBC, ABC, TBN,
CNN, HBO, "Life At Five", MTV Spring Break Party
Weekend, Sally Jesse Raphael, Geraldo, Oprah, a***nio,
Regis and Kathy Lee...
And I said,
"Hey, I admire your get up and go, your youthful
brooding and s**ually charged enthusiasm and all your
other utterly naïve and thoroughly endearing
adolescent qualities and I bet you can keep it up all night, can't you?
Oh, I bet you don't even use a rubber, no you don't
even use a rubber... do you?
Because
You think you can live forever.
Or do you have this adorable and misguided notion
that death is something really radical and cool but I
still can help being wildly attracted to your
fresh-faced uncompromised tattoo'd rebel stance and
g******! I'd like to help you sing your tune."
But I've been making friends with this here death and
it seems a might too soon.
And I said,
"Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid.
Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been saved.
So I sing, 'Hello death, goodbye Avenue A.'"
Now I'm not trying to be flippant here,
or irreverent, or exploitive, or sarcastic, or
ironic, or post-modern, and this is not a parody.
Get it? Got it? Good.
I've been thinking what he told me, that it's okay to
cry when we held the crystal Di & Charles spent 12 Grand to buy;
homeopathic mantras, fresh-squeezed wheat grass juice,
doctors up in Bellevue, Doctors Salk and Suess.
And it's time we'll all be going home, if you can
find the way, yes, everyone is going home,
going home to stay.
And it's time we find a way to cope, a way to find
some hope, for some it's the Bible or Buddha or
Mohammed or Krishna or cheesecake or bourbon
or the b******* Surfers or Giorgio Armani or Romeo Gigli
and you really can't afford it
but it looks so fabulous on you so why
don't you take it on home, and speaking of home, isn't
it about time you move out of that East Village
hellhole, the one with the Honeymooners view of the
brick wall out the window because you deserve
something more life affirming like a tree, or a
flower, or a patch of grass, or a singing little
bluebird, or maybe you just want to take your
boyfriend to Europe because he's never been or quit
the job you always hated or learn how to play the
guitar (it's easy) or get obscenely drunk in a piano
bar and sing show tunes... show tunes! ...and don't be
embarrassed, because at this point
I'd rather see "Brigadoon" than "Henry: Portrait of
a Serial Killer", or maybe you'd like to get
politically active so you disrupt a Presidential press
conference by shoving a 5 pound week old stalk of
broccoli between those thin lying lizard lips that
no one can read anyway because half the country is
illiterate and the other half is apathetic including
the First Lady who couldn't step just 500 feet out
of the overdecorated White House to visit the g******
Quilt or maybe you'd like to put a bullet into Jesse
Helms peabrain but you know when you start thinking
like that, when you start thinking like they do, then
it's time to let go of the material world, so
maybe you'd like to get yourself some religion 'cause,
"Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the
Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way."
...Besides, it's a lot easier to accept Jesus Christ
as your personal Lord and Savior when He looks like Willem DaFoe.
But maybe that stuff turns you off, so you rent
"Power of Myth"; it made me feel really good (for
about ten minutes), or maybe you'd just rather do acid and
listen to Led Zeppelin...
Then again, the last time I took hallucinogenic drugs
was about five years ago; I took mushrooms in Joshua
Tree looking for that Carlos Castaneda kind of
experience. I got off, my boyfriend didn't; he fell
asleep, left me alone with the television, turned it on,
turned on PBS,
you know what was on? ..."Berlin Alexanderplatz".
So I started watching it, and you know what...?
I got really b**med out.
And that's when I said "No to Drugs", "No to Drugs",
no no no no no, hell no to drugs, and maybe you'd want to say
no to drugs too or maybe you just want to join Atheists of
America or the Madonna Fan Club or watch Richard Gere
follow the Dali Lama across the world and then do
those oh-so-Zen like movies with those oh-so-Zen like
messages like, "Hey! It's fun to be a prostitute!" I
can't wait to spread my legs across Hollywood Blvd.
Because then maybe some rich, handsome billionaire
in a Jag will come driving up and take me shopping on
Rodeo Drive and that's what a woman's all about
anyway, right? Sucking and shopping and sucking and
shopping and sucking and shopping (repeat)
but hey, who am I
to argue because it's the feel good movie of the
summer, it's the feel good movie of the year, it's the
feel good movie of the Nineties, it's the feel good
movie of the Millennium, and you know what? If it
puts a smile on your face and a song in your heart
and a spring in your step,
well... whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever gives you hope.
Even if it's a truly tasteless joke.
So...
Fax a manifesto.
Pencil in a date.
Let me know when something gives I hope it's not too
late,
'cause I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid.
Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been
saved.
So I sing,
"Hello death, goodbye Avenue A"
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A...
he was an angry man, spinning words so dark
he called for death to rich men, death to Yuppies, too
death to art f***, bourgeois blacks, death to landlord Jews!
Kill the bankers, kill the cops, kill
him her and me, kill them all for CBS, NBC, ABC, TBN,
CNN, HBO, "Life At Five", MTV Spring Break Party
Weekend, Sally Jesse Raphael, Geraldo, Oprah, a***nio,
Regis and Kathy Lee...
And I said,
"Hey, I admire your get up and go, your youthful
brooding and s**ually charged enthusiasm and all your
other utterly naïve and thoroughly endearing
adolescent qualities and I bet you can keep it up all night, can't you?
Oh, I bet you don't even use a rubber, no you don't
even use a rubber... do you?
Because
You think you can live forever.
Or do you have this adorable and misguided notion
that death is something really radical and cool but I
still can help being wildly attracted to your
fresh-faced uncompromised tattoo'd rebel stance and
g******! I'd like to help you sing your tune."
But I've been making friends with this here death and
it seems a might too soon.
And I said,
"Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid.
Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been saved.
So I sing, 'Hello death, goodbye Avenue A.'"
Now I'm not trying to be flippant here,
or irreverent, or exploitive, or sarcastic, or
ironic, or post-modern, and this is not a parody.
Get it? Got it? Good.
I've been thinking what he told me, that it's okay to
cry when we held the crystal Di & Charles spent 12 Grand to buy;
homeopathic mantras, fresh-squeezed wheat grass juice,
doctors up in Bellevue, Doctors Salk and Suess.
And it's time we'll all be going home, if you can
find the way, yes, everyone is going home,
going home to stay.
And it's time we find a way to cope, a way to find
some hope, for some it's the Bible or Buddha or
Mohammed or Krishna or cheesecake or bourbon
or the b******* Surfers or Giorgio Armani or Romeo Gigli
and you really can't afford it
but it looks so fabulous on you so why
don't you take it on home, and speaking of home, isn't
it about time you move out of that East Village
hellhole, the one with the Honeymooners view of the
brick wall out the window because you deserve
something more life affirming like a tree, or a
flower, or a patch of grass, or a singing little
bluebird, or maybe you just want to take your
boyfriend to Europe because he's never been or quit
the job you always hated or learn how to play the
guitar (it's easy) or get obscenely drunk in a piano
bar and sing show tunes... show tunes! ...and don't be
embarrassed, because at this point
I'd rather see "Brigadoon" than "Henry: Portrait of
a Serial Killer", or maybe you'd like to get
politically active so you disrupt a Presidential press
conference by shoving a 5 pound week old stalk of
broccoli between those thin lying lizard lips that
no one can read anyway because half the country is
illiterate and the other half is apathetic including
the First Lady who couldn't step just 500 feet out
of the overdecorated White House to visit the g******
Quilt or maybe you'd like to put a bullet into Jesse
Helms peabrain but you know when you start thinking
like that, when you start thinking like they do, then
it's time to let go of the material world, so
maybe you'd like to get yourself some religion 'cause,
"Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the
Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way."
...Besides, it's a lot easier to accept Jesus Christ
as your personal Lord and Savior when He looks like Willem DaFoe.
But maybe that stuff turns you off, so you rent
"Power of Myth"; it made me feel really good (for
about ten minutes), or maybe you'd just rather do acid and
listen to Led Zeppelin...
Then again, the last time I took hallucinogenic drugs
was about five years ago; I took mushrooms in Joshua
Tree looking for that Carlos Castaneda kind of
experience. I got off, my boyfriend didn't; he fell
asleep, left me alone with the television, turned it on,
turned on PBS,
you know what was on? ..."Berlin Alexanderplatz".
So I started watching it, and you know what...?
I got really b**med out.
And that's when I said "No to Drugs", "No to Drugs",
no no no no no, hell no to drugs, and maybe you'd want to say
no to drugs too or maybe you just want to join Atheists of
America or the Madonna Fan Club or watch Richard Gere
follow the Dali Lama across the world and then do
those oh-so-Zen like movies with those oh-so-Zen like
messages like, "Hey! It's fun to be a prostitute!" I
can't wait to spread my legs across Hollywood Blvd.
Because then maybe some rich, handsome billionaire
in a Jag will come driving up and take me shopping on
Rodeo Drive and that's what a woman's all about
anyway, right? Sucking and shopping and sucking and
shopping and sucking and shopping (repeat)
but hey, who am I
to argue because it's the feel good movie of the
summer, it's the feel good movie of the year, it's the
feel good movie of the Nineties, it's the feel good
movie of the Millennium, and you know what? If it
puts a smile on your face and a song in your heart
and a spring in your step,
well... whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever gives you hope.
Even if it's a truly tasteless joke.
So...
Fax a manifesto.
Pencil in a date.
Let me know when something gives I hope it's not too
late,
'cause I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid.
Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been
saved.
So I sing,
"Hello death, goodbye Avenue A"
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A
Hello death, goodbye Avenue A...