day job lament

i want a hipster photograph of my band in black and white
standing on a corner beneath a yellow sodium streetlight
cigarettes in our fingers and all our jeans just a little too tight
but only one of us smokes, two of us chew and none of us can fight

i want to trash hotel rooms and autograph boobies by the bus
hire and fire publicists who just don't get along with us
drink whiskey, go on letterman, leer and sneer and cuss
the music's tight and the attitude's right, but a day job is still a must

i want to go on tour with all of my heroes
pick and grin and drink backstage after a three hour show
hear my songs come on the radio in the back of a limo
but i'll settle for a weekend gig, free beer and friends on a patio