Karen
Back to the audience
Clicking with one hand
Always face the band

Step forward
Foot down the rabbit hole
Beating off the fans
Don't have time for anything

You'll ride out like a cannonball
Playing a show to some hundreds of reptiles
Who lick your silver hands and say
"Silver's out of style now, Karen"

Cold call, dead of the night again
Twisted and turned around
It all becomes a requiem
Lifted and burned down
And it all becomes a requiem

I love you everyone
Wish I could takе you home
Wish I could shake you