Who the hell have I been kidding I sold my soul to the corporation They know me better than I know myself I better shut it up I better shut it up You gotta problem with the way I think I gotta problem with the way you think That you can program me Like a damned machine I wanna take a stand And say fuck this scene I'm sick of imagery Instead of artistry I'm sick of apathy Instead of harmony I'm sick of poets workin' part time jobs While pissy people pick and choose the stars I know that I should be The last one to speak About this but even sellouts have their dreams Set the music free Oh what the hell was I tryin' to prove I ran away so young Now on the move Like a vandal I wear my mask And all you punks back home Yah you can kiss my ass Cause' I gotta feelin' deep down inside my soul That's taken three whole years to gain control And I ain't never no never no never NO NEVER no never no never Coming home