Another sound sprung out on the icy mountain
And there's blood everywhere and smoke and broken bones
But I won't stop to help them, 'cause I'm drving to my favorite motel
So I can watch CNN and Full House and MTV
Yeah, the world's just a big fucking baby factory

You know the hooker in 301's screamin' at the top of her lungs:
"Won't you be my man? Won't you be my baby boy?"
But you know that she is fakin'
'Cause everybody's gotta make a livin'
And then you just feel like shit
'Cause you know that you'll die alone
How bizzare, as the skies gaping jaws swallow you whole

And it's a long way from the master to the slave
Yeah, it's a long way from New York City to Santa Fe
Back where we belong
You got luxury problems

I got Daddy's membership card that gets me into every mansion
And every butler in the country knows me by name
Because I hang out at the dinner parties
And I try to talk to their daughters
Because I want to marry rich
But they all treat me like shit
Between the cocaine and the sex
And your bank account full of Daddy's checks

"Excuse me, mister, but the roof is full of rotting babies
The ocean's black with decaying flesh"
Well, what a thing to say at the table
Oh yeah, you ought to be ashamed of yourself
Well, go on and chew your food
Talk about sports, weather, and stocks
And all the things that keep you from putting a gun in your mouth

And it's a long way from the master to the slave
Yeah, it's a long way from New York City to Santa Fe
Back where we belong
You got luxury problems