thinking of suitcases and peculiar children of the right summer heat and the certain kind of fall of ancestry and the thing that ties me to the place I've only briefly visited and how my favorite things are those not easily defined
She puts her makeup on like graffiti on the walls of the heartland
She's got her little book of conspiracies right in her hand
She is paranoid like endangered species headed into extinction
She is one of a kind
She wears her overcoat for the coming of the nuclear winter
She is riding her bike like a fugitive of critical mass
She's on a hunger strike for the ones who won't make it for dinner
She makes enough to survive for a holiday of the working class
She's a runaway of the establishment incorporated
She won't cooperate
She plays her vinyl records singing songs on the eve of destruction
She's a sucker for all the criminals breaking the laws
She will come in first for the end of Western civilization
She's an endless war, she's a hero for the lost cause
Like a hurricane in the heart of the devastation
She's a natural disaster, she's the last of the American girls
*green day