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bomb the music industry - syke! life is awesome! lyrics
i sat along the rocks and watch the cold maine water rush away.
the sun and my guitar and i knew what you were doing yesterday.
you broke those promises but i’ll get over it.
’cause as long as i’m breathing fresh air i don’t really give a sh-t
so i’ll complain for the next ten years, but remember that sometimes things are great.
i didn’t have directions and i hadn’t eaten anything all day.
we sucked a fat one and wasted a hundred dollars just to play.
i ate a bag of peanuts right before the windy road.
and i couldn’t drink a thing all night ’cause of the vomit in the back my throat.
then you gave me your number and your sweatshirt so i didn’t give a sh-t.
so i’ll complain for the next eleven years, but remember that sometimes things are great.
you don’t own me! you don’t own me!
i worked my -ss of my entire life to accomplish one dream.
it started happening and everything was b-st-rdized my greed.
i said “pull this sh-t over and let me out
i swear to f-cking god i’m f-cking giving up right now”
and now i’ve got a brand new start, i remember that something are great.
scream it in apartment halls –
scream it loud in shopping malls –
take a ball point pen and paint the inside’s of your eyelids with the constant reminder:
you don’t own me. you don’t own me.
then i was underground without food or sunlight or encouragement.
depression set in ’cause i was a product of my environment.
then the other day, i got in my car.
pick glenn tillbrook up from the hotel, drive him to the bar.
he wore a t-shirt just like me and wasn’t on his phone
and for fifteen minutes i had a conversation with a hero.
so i’ll complain for the next ten years…
and after that we’ll go drink beers until the bar runs out of beers
prepare for the next twenty-three years.
’cause if i wasn’t a fat kid in high school, i would have never listened to punk rock.
and if i knew how to throw a football, i would have never played any music.
and if never got my heart broken, i would sing “blah blah f-cking nothing.”
and if you didn’t f-ck my ex-girlfriend, i would still owe you three-thousand dollars.
and if i never lived in that van i wouldn’t have met chris or steve or james, alex or middagh.
and if i never worked in a bas-m-nt i would have never moved out of my house.
and if i had a big emo band or dropped out of college, i would have never met you, man.
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