I'm the son of rage and love,
The Jesus of Suburbia.
The bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of,
Soda Pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my,
Sins in hell.
As far as I can tell.
At least the ones that I got away with.
And there's nothing wrong with me,
This is how I'm supposed to be.
In a land of make believe
That don't believe in me.
Get my television fix,
Sitting on my crucifix.
The living room in my private womb
While the Moms and Brads are away.
To fall in love and fall in debt,
To alcohol and cigarettes,
And Mary Jane
To keep me insane
Doing someone else's cocaine.
And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a land of make believe.
That don't believe in me
At the center of the earth
In the parking lot,
Of the 7-11 where I was taught-
The motto was just a lie.
It says home is where your heart is
But what a shame
Cause everyone's heart
Doesn't beat the same
It's beating out of time.
City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway,
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned,
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care.
I read the graffiti
In the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures of a shopping mall
And so it seemed to confess,
It didn't say much
But it only confirmed that
The center of the earth
Is the end of the world.
And I could really care less.
City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today.
No one really seems to care.
I don't care if you don't,
I don't care if you don't,
I don't care if you don't care.
I don't care.
Everyone's so full of shit,
Born and raised by hypocrites,
Hearts recycled but never saved,
From the cradle to the grave.
We are the kids of war and peace,
From Anaheim to the Middle East.
We are the stories and disciples of
The Jesus of Suburbia.
Land of make believe,
And it don't believe in me
Land of make believe
And I don't believe
And I don't care!
Dearly beloved are you listening?
I can't remember a word that you were saying,
Are we demented or am I disturbed?
The space that's in between insane and insecure.
Oh therapy, can you please fill the void?
Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed
Nobody's perfect and I stand accused
For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse.
To live, and not to breathe,
Is to die, in tragedy
To run, to run away
To find, what you believe,
And I leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies.
I lost my faith to this
This town that don't exist.
So I run, I run away
To the lights of masochists.
And I, leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies
And I, walked this line,
A million and one fucking times
But not this time
I don't feel any shame.
I wont apologize
When there ain't nowhere you can go
Running away from pain
When you've been victimized
Tales from another broken home.
Oh you're leaving,
You're leaving
You're leaving.
Are you leaving home?
///
i'm sorry.
