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Jesus of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love the Jesus of suburbia

From the bible of none of the above on a steady diet of

Soda pop and Ritalin, no one ever died for my sins in hell

As far as I can tell at least the ones I got away with

And there's nothing wrong with me

This is how I'm supposed to be

In a land of make believe

That don't believe in me

Get my television fix sitting on my crucifix

The living room on my private womb

While the moms and brats are away

To fall in love, we fall in debt

To alcohol and cigarettes

And Mary Jane to keep me insane

Doing someone else's cocaine

And there's nothing wrong with me

This is how I'm supposed to be

In a land of make believe

That don't believe in me

At the center of the Earth

In the parking lot

Of the 7-11 were I was taught

The motto was just a lie

It says home is where your heart is

But what a shame

'Cause everyone's heart

Doesn't beat the same

It's beating out of time

City of the dead at the end of another lost highway

Signs misleading to nowhere

City of the damned lost children with dirty faces today

No one really seems to care

I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall

Like the holy scriptures of a shopping mall

And so it seemed to confess

It didn't say much but it only confirmed that

The center of the earth is the end of the world

And I could really care less

City of the dead at the end of another lost highway

Signs misleading to nowhere

City of the damned lost children with dirty faces today

No one really seems to care

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't

I don't care if you don't care

I don't care

Everyone is so full of shit

Born and raised by hypocrites

Hearts recycled but never saved

From the cradle to the grave

We are the kids of war and peace

From Anaheim to the Middle East

We are the stories and disciples of

The Jesus of Suburbia

Land of make believe

And it don't believe in me

Land of make believe

I don't believe in me

I don't care!

I don't care!

I don't care!

I don't care!

I don't care!

Dearly beloved are you listening?

I can't remember a word that you were saying

Are we demented or am I disturbed?

The space that's in between insane and insecure

Oh therapy, can you please fill the void?

Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed?

Nobody's perfect and I stand accused

For lack of a better word and that's my best excuse

To live and not to breathe is to die in tragedy

To run, to run away, to fight what you believe

And I leave behind this hurricane of fucking lies

I lost my faith to this, this town that don't exist

So I run, I run away to the lights of masochists

And I leave behind this hurricane of fucking lies

And I walk this line a million and one fucking times

But not this time

I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize

When there ain't nowhere we can go

Running away from pain

When you've been victimized

Tales from another broken home

You're leaving

You're leaving

You're leaving

Ah you're leaving home

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