Pretenders — Pack It Up

You guys are the pits of the world Oh, woah, woah, woah This is no place for me Burnin' down the innerbelt From jacuzzi to jacuzzi It's all right for you, man Gettin' smashed, gettin' suntanned But I know my place Where's my suitcase? Pack it up or throw it away What I can't carry, bury Oh you'll remember me And I'll remember you But that was a long, long time ago When I was passin' through All my family All my friends My lovers I got to find them My enemies My new family My new friends My future enemies I got to flush 'em out So pack it all up Nothing goes in storage I'm burnin' every bridge Burn, baby, burn I see your dog got shot Well, hell, never mind That's show biz, big boy You've got to be cruel to be kind Oh, woah, woah, woah Give over and admit it I've been tearing down the interstate Like some kind of bleeding git It's all right for the boss His gain's my loss That gets me down It really gets me down So pack it up, cut the crap When the clock starts talkin', I'll start walkin' And when you pass in your Porsche Please don't offer me a ride I may be a skunk But you're a piece of junk And furthermore I don't like your trousers And your appalling taste in women And what about your mind? And your insipid record collection That dumb home video center The usual pornography That all you scum lap up You're the pits of the world