it's burning and it's burning, it's burning,
|
a fire inside that i just don't believe
|
some call it anger, some say frustration
|
but i think i call this big greed
|
this time the circus has left without us
|
and we could run away
|
the french is the center now,
|
hey boys that's great
|
|
when i woke up in hawthorne,
|
i took ocean down to the fairground to see everyone
|
so beautiful that i drown in the waves of the haircuts
|
spin kicks and jumps
|
well i got my bottled water and my nachos,
|
it came in under twenty bucks
|
i got this bad taste in the back of my mouth
|
from my time on the back of a bus
|
|
this summer vacation, it's cheap and it's true
|
it's ideals are intact, it's the best we can do
|
this time you turn into your own enemy
|
not sell outs but dictated economies
|
|
(whoo!)
|
|
these thieves, these thieves in their flip-flops and bro attitudes
|
are the very reason we do what we do
|
when i say fuck the man, it's what i believe
|
no matter who that man happens to be.
|
no matter who that man happens to be.
|
|
this kevin or that one, it all seems the same
|
exploit the avenues, fix all the gains
|
maybe they'll buy everything that you sell
|
but i'm outside these fences,
|
rolling fast down that hill...
|
|
for your empty tale
|
mother fucker!
|
|
-----------------
|
[Untitled]
|
| Lawrence Arms |
