Sellout

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

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Oh what the hell was I tryin' to prove

I ran away so young

Now I'm 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 aint never no never no never no never no never no never

Coming home

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Ohhh.