3 chords, yeah they're yours,
we stole them from your bottom drawer.
16 strings or something,
yeah, don't listen, 'cause we stole everything.
Yeah, it's true, we got it from you,
don't worry man, there's nothing new.
Stay outside,
there's nothing in here that you would call alive.
With your own little shoes on your own little feet,
you'll never win or lose on your own little street,
when you're suckin' on your thumb and it's all goin' numb
and you're looking in the mirror and your looking so dumb,
well don't expect my invitation to come,
in your own little can where you cut out the noise.
You're too busy spittin' out mouthwash,
too busy spittin' out your own voice.
You keep saying, "I've got a car outside,"
well it that's true child, go take a ride.