Lyrics

I'm the son of rage and love The Jesus of Suburbia The bible of "none of the above" On a steady diet of Soda pop and Ritalin No one ever died for my sins in Hell As far as I can tell At least the ones I got away with And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In the land of make-believe They don't believe in me Get my television fixed Sitting on my crucifix The living room on my private womb While the moms and Brads are away, ey-yeah To fall in love and fall in debt To alcohol and cigarettes And Mary Jane to keep me insane Doing someone else's cocaine And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In a land of make-believe They don't believe in me At the center of the Earth in the parking lot Of the 7-Eleven where I was taught The motto was just a lie It says "home is where your heart is" but what a shame 'Cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same and I swear I swear, It's beating out of time, Ah-ah-ahh City of the dead At the end of another lost highway Signs misleading to nowhere City of the damned Lost children with dirty faces today No one really seems to care I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall Like the lonely scriptures of the shopping mall and I swear I swear, and so it seemed to confess It didn't say much, but it only confirmed That the center of the Earth is the end of the world And I swear, I swear I could really care less I could really care less City of the dead At the end of another lost highway Signs misleading to nowhere City of the damned Lost children with dirty faces today No one really seems to care