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The Continuing Tales of… Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Fever To Tell

on May 24, 2013, 12:00am
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“Rich”

BY LUKE WINKIE

Man I’ve got a fast car. You don’t even know. It’s got spikes and chrome and big black wheels, I soak up the asphalt like a bruise. That’s ‘cause I’m rich, I got the stars and the moons jingling from my keys. I feel them on my leg, and I feel you getting smaller and smaller in my mirrors. I pump up the volume and shift back the seat, drink a little something from a Styrofoam cup. Don’t even start with me, bro, I’m rich.

That inheritance is coming. Just a couple more years man, it’ll all be mine, at least it’s gonna be. Those other cats think they got a fortune delivery, but those other cats ain’t rich like me.

Got my girlfriend now. She’s all dusky and red and full of flirty little chemicals, I like the way she looks at me, she likes the way I mold her skin. She keeps scratching on my thigh with her baby index finger. She likes those other boys, but she loves me the most. That’s because I’m rich. I make her rich all day and night.

Haven’t moved for the last 12 hours. Took a mulligan today, curled up in the darkness and blasted off. Need to remember to close my eyes. Need to remember to touch the water. Need to remember to breathe. Roommates making a ruckus, they’ll be first against the wall when I’m rich.

A rough couple of nights, a rough couple of days, hard to feel my face. Toes are tingling. Hazy where I fell asleep, a total mystery where I woke up. Can’t wait for that inheritance, gonna stack my coins like pillars on the table.

I’m in the club, I’m always in the club. You just gotta be rich – shrink down and slip on by. See my girlfriend doing her thing. She ain’t looking at me right now, but she will be soon. Order a coke and rum, spend $16, it don’t matter I’m rich. Wait for the girl to come over. Still not looking at me. I wave. Still not looking at me. It’s cool, she’s doing her thing. Sometimes that’s just how it be.

Walk out of the club, feeling dizzy and clean. Sky opens up and speaks to me, get down on my knees. I’m the commissioner of this alley, it’s holy matriarch, I say a few prayers and watch the world smile back. I get these blessings on the regular, I deserve them, I’m so fucking rich.

Scream bloody murder. I don’t got a gun but I look like I do. Can’t get the register open so I pull the whole thing out with me. A handful of sweettarts too. A handful of glazed donuts too. Hands are goddamn freezing. Throw the cash machine in the side door. I’ve got a fast car. You don’t even know. Blaze through the streets. Heading to Johnny’s place. Turn up the radio, Johnny’s dead. Things are popping off now. Things are getting tense now. Chopper looking at me weird, lights all around. Cuffs around my wrists now. Headed toward the impound.

Don’t know any phone numbers, don’t have any friends. Can’t believe that Johnny’s dead. Little concrete box and a shrinkwrapped bed. I’m so rich though, they don’t even know. Blue-suits passing by, they can’t take my inheritance. Just thing about the inheritance. Always thinking about the inheritance. Curl up in the darkness. I’m so rich.

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