1. |
Adult Squad
03:31
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Wake up one morning, face down on the floor
Can’t recall anything from the night before
Call me useless and you call me a mess, now
I call it progress and a fucking success, now
A Generational, hypocritical shit
Voted most likely to have a nervous breakdown
Gimme 1 for never sober, and 2 for never bowing out
Took a long damn time just to fucking get here
All the hours put into giving no shits, and wasting paychecks
Breaking hearts and dodging Train wrecks
Build it up to burn it down
I'm a lit match in a room full of kerosene lamps
You're spilling and sloshing, I'm striking and droppin', now
And who'd a thought burning out could ever be this fun
Because I work for my money
Work for my money
Work for my money
And I ain't givin' shit back
I guess growing up isn’t half as bad
Blacking out on a Sunday
A slave to no one
Keep your charities, I ain't budgin' on that sale
'Cuz there’s no such thing as a selfless act
To all the times we’d soon forget
The ones we lost and deep regrets
Because I work for my money
And I ain't givin' shit back
We're all bleeding, bleeding from your throats
Well, they'll bleed you dry, but they won't take mine
'Cuz I know they're bullshit always floats
Made it Ma, I'm on top of the world
It's a cage-match with me, myself, and my dreams, now
And I'm crushin' 'em harder, no mercy, no pardon, now
And who'd a thought winning bronze could ever be this fun
Because I work for my money
Work for my money
Work for my money
And I ain't givin' shit back
I guess growing up isn’t half as bad
Blacking out on a Sunday
A slave to no one
Keep your charities, I ain't budgin' on that sale
'Cuz there’s no such thing as a selfless act
To all the times we’d soon forget
The ones we lost and deep regrets
Because I work for my money
And I ain't givin' shit back
I said, I work for my money
And I ain't givin' you nothin'
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2. |
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Fuck cops, and fascists
And punks who don't wear studded leather
Fighting for a future while still fighting fuckers in the scene
So unique but you're all drawn together
Your views are rooted backwards
Falling faster, further, '83
Smoke out back 'till it's time for the headliner
This one's for you, so you best stick around 'cuz
Here comes some words that you know (Destroy)
Easiest part of the song (Destroy)
The folded armed, pit side, pissed off motherfuckers (Destroy)
Are too punk rock to sing along (Destroy)
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3. |
Fuck Rock 'N' Roll
02:05
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No, Nothing ever good ever comes to fruition
Just an endless cycle of cause and effect
A blanket of nonsense, a passing religion, It’s shit.
All the things they are spattin’ and spewin'
A generation of miscreant kids
Millennial factions all boozing and loosin', because
We are young and we’re dumb and we’re headed
To the grave it’s a life we are livin'
Poppin' pills snortin' speed just to stay awake, all ways
Fuck rock 'n' roll I don't get it
It’s a life of regrets if you let it
Used and abused in an open grave with my friends
Oh, Darlin it’s all the same just a fuckfest
Assume the position and brace yourself
It’s a long bumpy ride to the bottom it’s where we all live
In the blood and the bone and the soil
This hell they made us is fun for a bit
So burn down the capital, lynch all the capitalists
We are young and we’re dumb and we’re headed
To the grave it’s a life we are livin'
Poppin' pills snortin' speed just to stay awake, all ways
Fuck rock 'n' roll I don't get it
It’s a life of regrets if you let it
Used and abused in an open grave with my friends
We are young and we’re dumb and we’re headed
To the grave it’s a life we are livin'
Poppin' pills snortin' speed just to stay awake, all ways
Fuck rock 'n' roll I don't get it
It’s a life of regrets if you let it
Used and abused in an open grave
In an open grave with my friends (Open grave with my friends)
In an open grave with my friends (Open grave)
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4. |
Writer's Block
00:57
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I need some enemies to scream about
I need some victims of IEDs
I need the inspiration coming from depression
'Till it’s bumming me out, to get some words out of me
I need my mom to feel like she’s gonna die
I need the death of the honey bee
I need more helicopter accidents
The Christians pushing abstinence, to get some creativity
Well, nothings sacred anymore
No, nothings sacred at all
I need a war, just to fall asleep tonight
I need a heart attack, and a city burning
To make this come out right
No, I need a fuckin' war
Need some bodies piled high
No more easygoing, need some lyrics flowin'
To make this come out right
It’s been five years since an album
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5. |
Blackout
01:52
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BLACKOUT
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6. |
Circle Pit
00:42
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You can never make me leave
You can never make me go
I wanna' waste away at the punk rock show with you
I got this feeling that had commandeered my heart
Don't care for ballroom dancing
Contra, shagging, or shoe-gazing
I just wanna' bust some heads
And fall in love right from the start
I'll circle pit with you
If you'll circle pit with me too
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7. |
Fine Foods Market
02:40
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The lottery line at Fine Foods is three blocks long,
and Hussein's selling PBR to hipsters with ironic mustaches,
Who most definitely once were punk, but now wear flannel,
and scream over bar chords on acoustic guitars.
The park's full of scumfucks, oogles and train kids,
Busking and flying signs for sparks and beast ice,
But not food for their dogs, not laundromats to clean their clothes,
They don't even shower, but that's how it goes.
And I don't care much either way,
cause when they're my age, they'll all own Saabs,
vacation homes with pending divorce,
memberships at the golf course,
but I do not,
no I do not.
You see, I grew up in a traffic jam,
A cul-de-sac All-American
With tapered jeans, and leather jackets, and Nike High tops.
A hair farmer from the suburbs, a drunk speed-metal drummer,
Now how the hell did I end up in real tree camo in car hearts.
It's safe to say I've lost my grip,
Oh look, there goes another hipster kid,
In neon on a track bike, paying a school to learn art.
A bi-green vegetarian, a fashion icon Charlottean,
At the bar, buying rounds, with his mother's credit card.
And I don't care much either way,
cause when they're my age, they'll all own Saabs,
vacation homes with pending divorce,
memberships at the golf course,
but I do not,
no I do not.
And I don't care much either way,
cause when they're my age, they'll all own Saabs,
vacation homes with pending divorce,
memberships at the golf course,
but I do not,
no I do not.
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8. |
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Is it too late to beg for forgiveness?
Cower home, we concede
Well, we stood for something, tried our fucking damnedest
But we fell flat on our faces, gracelessly
Are we better on our knees?
Lightin' both ends of my fucking cigarette
Just to feel something again
Same dead end nights seem to go on and on, and on
'Till one of us breaks
Keep us warm, keep us happy,
But keep us all in debt for your sake
We’re suckin' dick for a livin'
While the hand that feeds grabs the back of your head, and breathe in
Are we better on our knees?
Are we better on our knees?
Whats the motive, whats the point?
Another useless "A" for effort
If only we had another bone in our spine
Fat chance that we’ll get it right
We’ve been holding out for something
40 hours seems like nothing
Saving face, yeah, we’ve been bluffing
Lying to ourselves and to our dreams
Are we better on our knees?
Are we better on our knees?
To many he-said, she-said, pass the buck
To many shit apologies, as we ask
Are we better on our knees?
Are we better on our knees?
Are we better on our knees?
To many he-said, she-said, shit apologies
Are we better on our knees?
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STEVE BUSCEMI Chicago, Illinois
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