I'm the son of rage & love, the JESUS OF SUBURBIA, from 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...
But there's nothing wrong with me. This is how I'm supposed to be in the land of make believe that don't believe in me.
Get my television fix sitting on my crucifix, the living room in my private womb while the mom's & brad's are away. To fall in love and fall in debt, to alcohol and cigaretters and Mary Jane to keep me insane and doing someone else's cocaine...
But there's nothing wrong with me. This is how I'm supposed to be in the land of make believe that don't believe in me!

At the center of the earth in the parking lot of the 7-11 where 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. We're 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 in a shoppind 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... HEY!

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!
Everyone is so full of SHIT! Born & raised by hypocrites. Hearts recycled but never saved from the cradle to the grave. We are the kids of WAR & 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 and I DON'T BELIEVE... AND 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 inbetween 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 breath is to die in TRAGEDY. To run, to run away to find what to believe...
And I leave behind this hurricaine of fucking lies.
I lost my faith to this, this town THAT DON'T EXIST. So I run, I run away to the light of masochists...
And I leave behind this hurricaine of fucking lies. And I walked this line a million and one fucking times... But NOT THIS TIME.
I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize. Where there ain't nowhere you 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... You're leaving... Oh, you're leaving home!