Tekster: Infested (The). Myths, Lies & Hypocrites. Fadz.

Finally, you've seen some sense.
Your fad has worn away you fuckin inbreds.
You know who you are, the ones who would scold,
when I'd be drinking cider in your cult like town.
You'll never mention that shit that you did.
You'd rather just forget all that straight edged biz.
But I won't forget that couple of years,
when you had to wear a cross coz you didn't drink beer.

No one gives a shit if you drink or you don't.
No one gives a fuck if you smoke or you don't.
I don't give two shits if you think I'm a dick.
At least I know that I am true to myself.

No one gives a fuck if you drink or you don't,
which is why you made a fuss you attention seeking joke.
Trying to fit in? Be part of a crowd?
Just don't preach to me about the shit that I smoke.
Dividing the scene, I hated that shit.
But now you've come around and you wanna slot back in.
You've changed your looks and now your drinking all the time,
but I won't forget those fascist punk times.

What the fuck happened to the scene back then?
With its elitist hierarchy and separation of friends.
The tighter the pants, the straighter the hair.
No one gives a fuck about how much hairspray you wear.
Remember how you looked when you practiced your moves?
You looked like a cunt, I'm telling you.
I know that you've changed, you grew out of this shit,
but I'll never forget you, you arrogant set of pricks.