| Wiped out in the city slick
 | 
| Another sick rock 'n' roller acting like a dick
 | 
| Needing cash
 | 
| Burning through the trash
 | 
| That piles up in this place
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| And fills up behind my empty face
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| Full of things that I’m not to do
 | 
| You come over with all of your friends
 | 
| And all their opinions I don’t want to know
 | 
| And I’m looking over my shoulder
 | 
| Booking away with nowhere to go
 | 
| I run down to the corner lot
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| It’s forty-five past two
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| I almost forgot to show
 | 
| Got a date to make with Mr. So-and-So
 | 
| After which
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| I won’t care when you all start to bitch and moan
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| About being alone
 | 
| You come over with all of your friends
 | 
| And all their opinions I don’t want to know
 | 
| And I’m looking over my shoulder
 | 
| Booking away with nowhere to go
 | 
| Well, can’t you just leave me alone?
 | 
| You’ve already thrown all the sticks and stones
 | 
| You had to send my way
 | 
| Well, can’t you just leave it at that?
 | 
| And spare us both the bother
 | 
| Because I just bounce back anyway
 | 
| I got nothing that I want to do more
 | 
| Than make another sonic «fuck you» to play
 | 
| Whenever you make my life cliche
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| So to fit in some little box with the all the labeled shit
 | 
| You would say to keep confusion away
 | 
| You come over with all of your friends
 | 
| And all their opinions I don’t want to know
 | 
| And I’m looking over my shoulder
 | 
| Booking away with nowhere to go
 | 
| You come over with all of your friends
 | 
| And all their opinions I don’t want to know
 | 
| And I’m looking over my shoulder
 | 
| Booking away |