Can you tell from the way we wear our scars so well?
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We've got a reason to be cynical.
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You can tell from the razorblades we smuggle in our mouths...
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we've got a reason to be critical.
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We've got nowhere to go and everyone knows
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that's how it goes around here.
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We've got stacks and piles of dead .WAV files.
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Nobody smiles around here.
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So we stopped dropping quarters in the wishing well.
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We don't need it. We don't need another love song.
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We don't need it. I know you're not speaking to me.
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We're all sick of standing in line waiting to die.
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We've got reasons to think it's pitiful.
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We've got a new way to dance, a new way to move.
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We write our own rules around here.
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We've got piles and stacks of dead soundtracks.
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We write our own anthems down here.
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We write our own rules and we write our own anthems.
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-----------------
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We Write Our Own Anthems
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| The A.K.A.s |
