Something Paul Revere
de Merchant Ships
Hoods up kid, tag yer it
Sing alongs in basements,
Word for word with five people,
This is our community: everyone's fucked
Bands "selling out" or "do it yourself",
We're full of shit...but we all ride fixed
Drink up/throw up the summer fun,
What good's a man that cannot run,
We're birds without our fucking wings
And nothin' else means anything.
Say shit to my face, say shit you think i'll never hear
Then i'll fight your fucking ogre,
I'll take an eye for every year i ever thought you were something
Now she's blind, and the jokes on you
We are the lion, and you're dead
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Birthday!
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We Don't Need Luck To Make It
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