Jesus of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
The Bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of
Soda pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my sins in hell
As far as i can tell
At least the ones i got away with

And theres nothing wrong with me
This is how im s'posed to be
In a land of make believe
That dont believe in me

Get my television fix
Sitting on my crucifix
A living room
Or my private womb?
While the moms and Brads are away
To fall in love and fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes
And Mary Jane to keep me insane
Doing someone else's cocaine'

And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm s'posed to be
In a land of make believe
That don't believe in me

At the center of the earth in the parking lot
Of the 7-11 where i was taught
The motto was just a lie
It said "Home is Where Your Heart Is" but what a shame
'Cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same
It's beating out of time

City of the Dead (Hey! Hey!)
At the end of another lost Highway (Hey! Hey!)
Signs misleading to nowhere

City of the Damned (Hey! Hey!)
Lost children with dirty faces today (Hey! Hey!)
No one really seems to care

I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures of a shopping mall
So it seemed to confess
It didn't say much but it only confirmed
That the center of the earth is the end of the world
And I could really care less

City of the Dead (Hey! Hey!)
At the end of another lost highway (Hey! Hey!)
Signs misleading to nowhere

City of the Damned (Hey! Hey!)
Lost children with dirty faces today (Hey! Hey!)
No one really seems to care

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care

I don't care

Everyone's so full of shit
Born and raised by Hypocrites
Hearts recycled but never saved
From the cradles to the grave
We are the kids of War and peace
From Anaheim to the Middle East
We are the stories and disciples of
The Jesus of Suburbia

Land of make believe
And they dont believe in me

Land of make believe
And they dont believe in me

And I Dont Care
I Dont Care
I Dont Care
I Dont Care
I Dont Care

Dearly Beloved
Are you listening?
I can't remember a word that you were saying
Are we demented or am i disturbed?
The place thats in between is Sane and Insecure
Oh Therapy
Can you please fill the void?
Am i retarded or am i just overjoyed?
Nobody's perfect and i stand accused
For lack of a better word and thats my best excuse

To live and not to breathe
To die in tragedy
To run, to run away
To find what you believe

And i leave behind
A hurricane of fucking lines

My fate has led to this
Some town that dont exist?
So i run, i run away
The lights of Masochist

And i leave behind
A hurricane of fucking lines
But not this time

I dont feel any shame i want to apologize
When there ain't nowhere you can go
Running away from pain when you've been victimized
Tales from another broken home

We're leaving
We're leaving
We're leaving
Oh, We're leaving home