He's the Brat

He's the brat with the sterilized pitchfork, he's the singer of the Beachwood Sparks

He's a dreamy, kind-of-cheesy companion piece who wants to show me where the healing starts

Beauty is evil, immaculate evil, don't you think? But I'm lost in the flames of a grand explosion, stumbling in the neon groves



Ladies flock to the overnight discos, slamming vodka tonics down their throats

While your older brother's company's publicist is sliding off his mama's pantyhose

Beauty is evil, immaculate evil, don't you think? But I'm mopping up stains from a blood transfusion, stumbling in the neon groves



Oh, the pleasures of the morning are simple, but the treasures are the sweetest I've known

Oh, I'm just so excited to look through my new eyes -- the needles are covered with snow



So take me down to the winterland bombshell factory; you can hear the mermaids groan

On the double-breasted coconut seashell, half-wrecked bus to Yankee Stadium

Beauty is evil, I like to be evil, can't you see? But I'm lost in the flames of a grand explosion, stumbling in the neon groves