(You're passing by me) So where did I go wrong? (Everywhere) And how did this become some generic play where the actors say "We want our names up on Broadway." (You're passing by me) And the critics agree, (You wish that I cared) "You've got a brilliant failure here, with romantic decay and violent imagery." But we don't wanna be held down by this! We don't need to take no direction. We've already chosen disintegration. The drama queen flinches at fire, but hisses steam. She never will become the spectacle hype has brought us. Like a hearse with no brakes, she's off. And your puppets will call you out. The production has got to stop! Turn the projectors off!