Punkout

He writes the songs, for the people

He writes the songs, I don't think so

He plays guitar, and looks sexy

You go to shows, who's the dummy

Buy, buy, American pie,

A corporate made creation so godawful I could cry

Last song sounded as bad as the first,

How could you pay more to do worse

Don't forget all the common people,

There is no hell to pay, there is no good or evil

The limo ride downtown

With all of your security keep the fans at bay

Protect your punk monopoly!

Punkout!

He plays the crap, with no conviction

He plays the crap, no one will miss him

There must be a point, we find it funny

There must be a hole, for all your money