Beck

Definitely this is the wrong place to be
Theres blood on the futon
Theres a kid drinking fire
Going down to the sea
They got people to meet
Shaking hands with themselves
Looking out for themselves
When they ask you for credit
Give them a branch
When they want you to get it
Chew on the grass
I know I know cause they told me to tell you
Theres nothing to tell you
Theres nothing to sell you
In the afternoon