Testo: Jawbreaker. 24 Hour Revenge Therapy. Indictment.

I just wrote the dumbest song. It's gonna be a sing along. All our friends
will clap and sing. Our enemies will laugh and be pointing. It won't bother
me, what the thoughtless are thinking, I am more concerned with what we're
drinking. They'll laugh about it at the warehouse, saying I'm so lame. It
wrote itself. You can keep the blame. It'll be a happy song. Not unlike some
other ones. While everyone's depressed and broke, I get high off your sick
jokes. They're colossal. They're tousling all the worried hair. Stay up there.
So crazy it just might work. Then we'll quit our jobs. We could be the next
group that you rob. There are times for being dumb. This must be one of them.

I'd like to know what's so wrong with a stupid, happy song? It says many
things in it's nothingness. It gives me space to think, I guess. To think less
And less. Moving units and tracking charts. Will they ever learn? It isn't who
you know, it's who you burn. It means nothing. Selling kids to other kids. If
you think we changed our tune, I hope we did.