I lost the confidence to write a song,
so i found three simple chords and I held them together with my weak voice on an out-of-tune guitar my father gave to me
May Elvis turn in his grave and Les Paul curse my dirty calloused fingers May the likes of this song never make one fucking dollar,
leave it for a demo tape to be played until it's broken
then remembered only for what it was
that we gave 'em hell(repeated)

To my friends and enemies who could have been anything,
titans and heroes who found survival in cause and effect
Behind counters, behind windows, striving just to be people
with bitter ideals of justice
Do we only need to keep working because it pays rent?
Sleeping under plastic stars glued to a ceiling,
muscles burning alcohol and nicotine every morning
but we gave them hell(repeated)

There's a height beyond skyscrapers, there's a distance beyond the freeway
More than pictures in a magazine, more than tragedy in a rock and roll song
It's more than the actions you know it's safe to make,
It's more than money could ever buy
Are we working to live and die in american cities,
living to work and die in american cities, and dying for what we worked