Stan
(Chorus x2)My tea's gone coldI'm wondering why I got out of bed at allThe morning rain clouds up my windowAnd I can't see at all!And even if I could, it'd all be greyBut your picture on my wallIt reminds me that it's not so badIt's not so bad...
Dear Slim,I wrote to you, but you still ain't calling!I left my cell, my pager and my home phone at the bottomI sent two letters back in AutumnYou must not have got themIt probably was a problem at the post office or somethingAnd sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'emBut anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man?How's your daughter?My girlfriend's pregnant, tooI'm about to be a fatherIf I have a daughter, guess what I'm going to call her?I'm going to name her Bonnie!I read about your Uncle Ronnie, too, and I'm sorryI had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him!I know you probably hear this every day, but I'm your biggest fanI even got the underground shit that you did with ScamI've got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man!I like the shit you did with Ruckus, tooThat shit was fatAnyways, I hope you get this, man!Hit me back, just to chatTruly yours, your biggest fanThis is Stan
(Chorus)
Dear Slim,You still ain't called or wroteI hope you have the chance!I ain't madI just think it's fucked up that you don't answer fansIf you didn't want to talk to me outside the concertYou didn't have toBut you could have signed an autograph for Matthew!That's my little brother, man; he's only six years oldWe waited in the blistering cold for you for four hoursAnd you just said no!That's pretty shitty, man; you're like his fucking idol!He wants to be just like you, man; he likes you more than I do!I ain't that mad, though; I just don't like being lied to.Remember when we met in Denver?You said if I write to you, you would write back!See, I'm just like you in a way; I never knew my father, neitherHe used to always cheat on my mom and beat herI can relate to what you're saying in your songsSo when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put them onBecause I don't really got shit elseSo that shit helps when I'm depressed.I even got a tattoo with your name across the chest!Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds!It's like adrenaline; the pain is such a sudden rush for meSee, everything you say is realAnd I respect you 'cause you tell itMy girlfriend's jealous because I talk about you 24/7But she don't know you like I know you, SlimNo-one does!She don't know what it was like for people like us growing up!You've got to call me, manOr I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever loseSincerely yours, Stan.P.S. We should be together, too!
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Dear Mister I'm Too Good To Call Or Write My FansThis'll be the last package I ever send your assIt's been six months and still no word!I don't deserve it?I know you got my last two lettersI wrote the addresses on them perfectSo this is my cassette I'm sending youI hope you hear it!I'm in the car right now; I'm doing 90 on the freewayHey, Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka.Do you dare me to drive?You know that song by Phil Collins, "In the air of the night"About that guy who could have saved that other guy from drowningBut didn't; then Phil saw it all, then at his show he found him?That's kind of how this isYou could have rescued me from drowning!Now it's too lateI'm on a thousand downers now, and I'm drowsyAnd all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call...I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall!I loved you, Slim; we could have been together!Think about it! You've ruined it nowI hope you can't sleep and you dream about itAnd when you dreamI hope you can't sleep and you scream about it!I hope your conscience eats at youAnd you can't breathe without me!!See, Slim... Shut up, bitch! I'm trying to talk!Hey, Slim, that's my girlfriend screaming in the trunk!But I didn't slit her throat; I just tied her up.See, I ain't like you'Cause if she suffocates, she'll suffer moreAnd then she'll die, tooWell, got to go, I'm almost at the bridge now!Oh, shit!!! I forgot!!!How am I supposed to send this shit out?
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Dear Stan,I meant to write to you sooner, but I've just been busy.You said your girlfriend's pregnant nowHow far along is she?Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that;And here's an autograph for your brotherI wrote it on your starter capI'm sorry I didn't see you at the showI must have missed youDon't think I did that shit intentionally, just to diss you!And what's this shit you saidAbout you like to cut your wrists, too?I say that shit just clowning Dogg;Come on, how fucked up is you?You've got some issues, StanI think you need some counselingTo help your ass from bouncing off the wallsWhen you get down someAnd what's this shit about us meant to be together?That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each other!I really think you and your girlfriend need each otherOr maybe you just need to treat her better.I hope you get to read this letterI just hope it reaches you in timeBefore you hurt yourself!I think that you'll be doing just fine if you relax a littleI'm glad I inspire you, but, Stan, why are you so mad?Try to understand that I do want to lose you as a fan!I just don't want you to do some crazy shit...I seen this one shit on the news a couple of weeks agoThat made me sick!Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridgeAnd had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid!And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was toCome to think about it, his name was...It was you!Damn!