Too long, too old are my only excuses for being alive
Too insecure, it's just no excuse for being blind
I can't put a finger on the pulse of a generation
hellbent on sensation
Running upstairs to spread wings to crash and burn
death ride, suicide, destination:no return
you wear your image like a gun at your hip but it's a gun at your head
You're already dead
pathetic, synthetic, death by desire
desecrate the peace you've found
I spit upon your holy ground
I want to bleed on your open sores and infect you with a drive for something real
Mouths wide open let it all pour out about your big bright future in your store bought filth, your credit card cool, your bullshit, jive-talkin', got it going on but you'll never keep it up.
so full of shit, so full of yourself
pretty, pretty ain't it but I'd love to see you painted like the whores you really are
Fully posable all-star cast in a psychedelic social scene setting
hands wrapped around each other's throats
I came to smash your health and break the teeth from your smiles
smell your flesh burn in a red-light feast of sight and sound
I swear you'll die for what you've done
your weight in blood for my self-worth
A martyr for my integrity
meaningless maturity
fuck all of your opportunities
fuck your popularity
ghost town blueprint tragedy
condemned to failure