my father gave to me. and may elvis turn in his grave
and les paul kiss my dirty
calloused fingers
and may the likes of this song never make
one fucking dollar
leave it for a demo tape
to be played until it's broken
then remembered only for what it was. that we gave them hell
that we gave them hell
that we gave them hell
that we gave them hell
that we gave them hell
that we gave them hell
to my friends and enemies who could of been anything
titans and heroes who found survival in cause and effect. behind counters
behind windows
striving just
to be people
with bitter ideals of justice. do we only need to keep working because it pays rent?
sleeping under plastic stars glued to ceiling
muscles burning alcohol and nicotine
every morning. but we gave them hell
but we gave them hell
but we gave them hell
but we gave them hell
but we gave them hell
but we gave them hell
there's a height beyond skyscrapers
there's a distance beyond the freeway
more than pictures in a magazine
more than tragedy in a rock and roll song. it's more than the actions you know are safe to make. it's more than money could ever buy. are we living to work and die in american cities?