who the hell have i been kidding
i sold my soul to the corporation
they know me better than i know myself
i better shut it up
i better shut it up
you got a problem with the way i think
i got a problem with the way you think
that you can program me
like a damn machine
i gunna take a stand
and say fuck this scene
i'm sick of imagery
instead of artistry
i'm sick of apathy
instead of harmony
i'm sick of poets working part time jobs
while pissy people pick and choose the stars
i know that i should be
the last one to speak about this
but even sellouts have their dreams
set the music free
(da da da...)
oh what the hell was i trying to prove
i ran away so young
now on the move
like a vandal i wear my mask
and all you punks back home
you can kiss my ass
i got a feeling deep down inside my soul
thats taken 3 years to gain control
and i ain't never no never, no never, no never
no never, no never, coming home
(da da da...)
ohh