The flowers are already dead.
Replaced with girl pants wearing, mosh call, make-upped rock stars.
Lookin so cute in your promo shot.
Crying like a bitch cause you didn't get your gaurantee.
Guess what, I saw your video and it sucked.
And your label promoting this shit.
You can all go fuck yourselves.
The scene just turned corporate,
and I got you to thank for that.
So much for free thought and five dollar basement shows.
Conform and you got a chance to get on some dope rock tour.
Endorse some clothes and wear them on
some huge stage.
But I'll stick to playing on floors.
Among freinds renting out halls.
Gimickless. Telling it like it is.
I know some of you might have a problem with that
and if you do chances are you're part of the problem.
This is an ideology in which my influences paved the way.
I've done my best to give back lyrically.
Read the insert if you can't understand me.
I can't possible scream any louder than this.
I am the voice of the underground.
This could be my last transmission.
Download this shit,
I don't give a fuck