Born into the middle class
|
Yeah, all you had to do was ask
|
And mom and dad would give you what you needed
|
And though I didn't know you then
|
I know you'll probably defend
|
And take the stand in the life that you'd been cheated
|
So you adopt a punk rock life
|
A leather jacket, hair with spikes
|
And join a band
|
'Cause you must have a say
|
And though you helped out with it that time
|
There's those of us, who keep on
|
Trying to make a living and not sound like Green Day
|
Trade rags say you're making it, now you're old
|
You don't give a shit.
|
Subconsciously fullfilled prophecy you've become your own nemesis
|
|
Mr. Brett, we won't pay that fee to keep you
|
Livin' in luxury
|
Some say genius, some say mistake
|
But you've become what you used to hate
|
|
So now we're in the 90's and punk's not what it used to be
|
It's gone downhill since 1982
|
And though I liked most of your bands
|
And listen to them all I can
|
It's fucked up that you think it's 'cause of you
|
You think that you're still part of the scene
|
Nail painted black, hair dyed dark green
|
For you this mid life crisis has come on strong
|
Now punk rock's been accepted
|
And they've realized it's not just a fad
|
Please, stay behind that desk where you belong
|
Punk rock life's been good to you
|
Now Corporate punk's the thing to do
|
Obnoxiously, you raised your fee,
|
You'll see to it we'll all get screwed.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mr. Brett
|
Snot |