kaneda

chewing leather and hickory to think past it
wet pants leg from pissing vinegar on tracks
a sentimental asshole, spit at you, "now give it back"
or else i'll pay it forward, come at you with broken glass
you can't have me. this is not an act.
i'm grown man and'll axe you in fit of passion
grew to be neglected, don't get mad i neglect back
with theft mass, don't care, like "it's mine, why do you ask?"
i lived through hell, now i'm slicin' piece of heaven
however i gotta get it, i'll grind until i grab it
never satisfied, i'm a perfection addict
fiendin' to fix it while it's still working is my habbit
i hang with homeless men who'll croon until you crash with'em
could serenade a civic officer out of her pants and belt
and laid off white collar disgruntled hacktivists
mad 'cause every mentor that came along took advantage
fuck paying dues, my crew already has
just from coming out from recruiters with dignity intact
every authority said we're beautiful was actually
planning to make a buck, rob us blind and shoot us back
ducking sallie mae calls, won't bother with freddie mack
spending days in hotel lobbies and sleeping in cadillacs
faking living large, chocolate cake off of food stamps
until we make it -- jacking beers -- you can't tell these fools how to act
try it, i dare you. you can find us at the cracks
you're afraid of slipping through, yourself. we're those rejects come back
hop on the bike and throttle it to crash the capitol
might get shot up, don't give a fuck. this ain't for craps and laughter.
'sides, they'll patch us. more worried 'bout what comes after:
fill us with drugs and chalk it all up to depression.
downing ritalin, xanax and aderall like candy
you shouldn't have fucked us up, it's a drug zombie attack