I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
From 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 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 or my private womb
While the Mom's and Brad's 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