Compositor: Gregory Collins / Matt Collins
Wood panelled garbage lines my street. street lights light fires on high heat. you pay - hell no, it's my treat. this kind of panic's no small feat. everyone's got all kinds of demands - everything that they want from this band. i can't say, it's outta my hands. this is the hottest band in the land! kiss yr flamethrower we're taking a stand! decoder rings out and undo the scam. accept this even if you don't understand; better value than the national brand. weight like some lesser baldwin, not a
bath but a cooking cauldron!
all the geeks together like a squadron took over the math department, and it goes like "now that we're in charge we can add, put real bad ideas in yr head!" catharsis is cheap don't settle for that, the formula becomes a steel mental trap. if you still don't get what i'm saying, it's by purpose not by plan... snowing cash ashes all night now, said "see you later," later's right now. we could both walk or we could fight now, what i don't think is not my cash cow. everyone's got it right in the chest, everything like a rubber bullet. get past that and you've passed the test; this is the last step before we're impressed. the right outlook can be a bulletproof vest: put your hands up, you're under arrest! minds made up before i've confessed. never met a truth to which i can attest. not for the cutting edge or the sellouts. politics jocks can GET THE HELL OUT! can't get with if you only wanna shell out, gotta torch the cash if you wanna get the smell out. paint the burning bird on every block. argument tones removed from the talk. figured answers for the questions you pop! ...and then the secret meaning of life dr