My mommy's on valium, she's so ineffectual Yeah, I tried to tell you about no control But now I really don't know And then you told me how bad you had
the head Better off dead, yeah better than this Take it away, 'cause there's nothing to miss I'm sorry about the world How could I know you'd take it so bad
Well I can see my teenage father standing straight on a desolate corner In the shadow of tentacled towers by the red light of America I imagine how his
'm a zero I'm the butt of the worst joke in history I'm a lock without a key A city with no door A prayer without faith A show without a score A bad
Now here I go, hope I don't break down I won't take anything, I don't need anything Don't want to exist, I can't persist Please stop before I do it again
Individuals run for cover, for the multitudes of thoughtless clones Have reached a critical mass, have reached a critical mass Individuals hide in fear
Automatons with business suits swinging black boxes Sequestering the blueprints of daily life Contented, free of care, they rejoice in morning ritual
If I'm a monster I am a willing one This roller coaster ride is an enticing one On the tip of a continuum flowing wavelike Through disorder, carrying
head and walk away Knowing we're all in this together For such a short time anyway There is just no time to parade around sulking I would rather laugh than
Cockroach naps, rattling traps How many devils can you fit upon a match head? Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
Television Television Television Oh yeah, I want to bask in golden light Submerge in electric waves I need my connection to the world outside Yeah, the
Every time you shake someone's hand And it feels like your best friend Could it be that it's only superficiality? Without regard to well being without
The brown and orange sky holds its breath As the sun retreats to the distant horizon And our hearts palpitate anxiously as we soon will lay supine And
and rattling traps, how many devils can you fit upon a match head?, caringosity killed the Kerouac cat, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction in my
Oversættelse: Bad Religion. Stranger Than Fiction.
I'm the butt of the worst joke in history, I'm a lock without a key, a city with no door, a prayer without faith, a show without a score, I'm a bad word
: there are desperate times upon us, there are codes of white and black, political resentment and people start to crack, there's hate and opposition,
