Sorry Bro

Fifteen songs, fifteen shows
Fifteen pigs sucking at your tit
How does it feel to live here?
How does it feel to leave here?

Fifteen notes, fifteen notes
Fifteen dogs chewing on your throat
How does it feel to come home?
I wish you had a home

And you've got nothing I want but got something I need
You got the elegant ability to breathe

Traffic report, fifteen dead
A head-on collision, at least that's what I thought I had read
We're the kids in America! (Whoa-whoa)
We're the kids in America!

Fifteen days, you're back on track
With fifteen ounces cut out of your fucking back
How does it feel to be you?
I do not envy you, dude

And you've got nothing I like but got something I love
You got the charm and the skills to rise above
You know how to be loved
And you're as clean as a broke-dick dog

And I don't wanna be like you
But I'm still rooting for you
I would hate to be like you
But I'm still rooting for you
I would hate to be like you
But I'm still rooting for you
I don't wanna be like you
But I'm still rooting for you

You've got nothing I hate but got something I loathe
You still walk around letting other people pick out your clothes
And they will tell you when to go
They'll tell you who to kno-o-ow
And they will tell you when to stop
And then you'll stop