This leathers called a seat belt Anne Louise   Your head out of the window in the coolest summer breeze   And in the air were all the things you claimed we need   They seemed to be worth less than once I did believe   And I swear to god that I'll avenge your dead   With the best lawyers of auto-politics   And I'll spend whatever money's to be spend   To try and revive your broken body again   And the penny-pitching funeral was shit   Your body in a plastic frame that I threw flowers in   And I hope to god that you'll remember me in heaven   God I hope you don't remember that in heaven   God I hope that they'll allow me into heaven   Look what I've become   Look what I've become