Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
Bomb the Music Industry!
And I haven't had any fun this year
But that's fucking bullshit and
I haven't had any luck this year
I'm preaching to the choir. I know
I haven't been to my parents' house in months
And it looks like March
And the years before and my attitude's the same:
Familiar and worrisome
I pictured my death two times today
The tracks and the fire escape
Room of burnt toast and stacked dirty plates
And I'm the one responsible
I haven't had any luck this year
I know I'm preaching to the choir
But my nightmare's here and I forgot how to wake up
And start moving forward
And my mother said, "Son, I'm sorry you're neurotic."
And my dad said, "Son, I really thought you dodged the bullet."