The best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is a market on chicken legs
Overflowing with disco and EDM and laughter
And everyone is waving their guns in the air
And holding up banners screaming, “Who cares?”
And Madonna sits by an isle
She hands you a coke and says,
“Sorry, we’re out of Root Beer”
And the man at the bar says, “Put it on my card”
And he takes out the ace of spades
And John Kennedy sings karaoke
And Nixon, he plays violin
And it sounds just like hell
But everyone’s too drunk to complain
As they buy their onions and carrots and milk.
The best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is any place where you can be alone
Like in a sea of people
Or at the bottom of the ocean
Or squashed inside an air duct.
And the best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is a party you’re not invited to
Where everyone glows pink and blue
As they dance in the light
Like drunk snakes
Like everyone in the TV shows
The place you were made to be
Because you can take a compliment like
Muhammad Ali took a punch.
The best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is that place where you can’t pull yourself out of bed
And your teacher is literally Adolf Hitler
And your advisor is maybe Stalin
And your computer has a mind of its own
And everyone there, they don’t answer questions
They just stare at you and expect you to know
And you wanna drown yourself in an ocean
Of meaningless conversations.
And you bring your guitar to play some folk rock
And someone says, “You’re the GOAT, bring me some milk”
So you go home
And think about how if a nuclear bomb was going to fall
Who would let you in their bunker?
And the best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is a heaven right outside your window
And the best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is a bandaid on the back of Del Playa.
And the best place to buy bread in Isla Vista
Is just some random supermarket
Overflowing with muzak
And the yawns of the air conditioner
And everyone there has eyes like black holes
And there’s nothing else.
