I'll be a boy in a magazineI'll mean nothing to you, you'll mean nothing to meYou asked me to go, so I guess that I'll leaveAnd just be a boy in a magazineI clapped my headThen poured in some sorrowI stole some things from youI could have easily borrowedWhen you were passing on the rideI waited around, but now I'm packing my bagsTo leave our street in HollywoodWill it all be there?I'll be a boy in a magazineI'll mean nothing to you, you'll mean nothing to meYou asked me to go, so I guess that I'll leaveAnd just be a boy in a magazineI won't have a bedI'll still have my string stained handsI'll go homeWhere animals were buried in the backyardWhen you were passing on the rideI waited around, but now I'm packing my bagsTo leave our street in HollywoodWill it all be there?I'll be a boy in a magazineI'll mean nothing to you, you'll mean nothing to meYou asked me to go, so I guess that I'll leaveAnd just be a boy in a magazineI'll be a boy in a magazineI'll be a boy in a magazineI'll mean nothing to you, you'll mean nothing to meI'll be a boy in a magazineI'll be a boy in a magazineI'll be a boy in a magazineI'll be your boy in a magazineI'll be your boy in a magazineI'll be your boy in a magazine