Syke! Life Is Awesome! - Bomb The Music Industry!

I sat along the rocks and watch the cold Maine water rush away.

The sun and my guitar and I knew what you were doing yesterday.

You broke those promises but I’ll get over it.

'Cause as long as I’m breathing fresh air I don’t really give a shit

So I’ll complain for the next ten years, but remember that sometimes things are

great.

I didn’t have directions and I hadn’t eaten anything all day.

We sucked a fat one and wasted a hundred dollars just to play.

I ate a bag of peanuts right before the windy road.

And I couldn’t drink a thing all night 'cause of the vomit in the back my

throat.

Then you gave me your number and your sweatshirt so I didn’t give a shit.

So I’ll complain for the next eleven years, but remember that sometimes things

are great.

You don’t own me!

You don’t own me!

I worked my ass of my entire life to accomplish one dream.

It started happening and everything was bastardized my greed.

I said «pull this shit over and let me out

I swear to fucking God I’m fucking giving up right now»

And now I’ve got a brand new start, I remember that something are great.

Scream it in apartment halls —

Scream it loud in shopping malls —

Take a ball point pen and paint the inside’s of your eyelids with the constant

reminder:

You don’t own me.

You don’t own me.

Then I was underground without food or sunlight or encouragement.

Depression set in 'cause I was a product of my environment.

Then the other day, I got in my car.

Pick Glenn Tillbrook up from the hotel, drive him to the bar.

He wore a t-shirt just like me and wasn’t on his phone

and for fifteen minutes I had a conversation with a hero.

So I’ll complain for the next ten years…

And after that we’ll go drink beers until the bar runs out of beers

prepare for the next twenty-three years.

'Cause if I wasn’t a fat kid in high school, I would have never listened to

punk rock.

And if I knew how to throw a football, I would have never played any music.

And if never got my heart broken, I would sing «blah blah fucking nothing.»

And if you didn’t fuck my ex-girlfriend, I would still owe you three-thousand

dollars.

And if I never lived in that van I wouldn’t have met Chris or Steve or James,

Alex or Middagh.

And if I never worked in a basement I would have never moved out of my house.

And if I had a big emo band or dropped out of college, I would have never met

you, man