They showed no interest in us
They painted our faces with mute
They neglected building trust
There’s no money in fucked up youth
AND WHEN WE GO OUT
WE WEAVE DISASTER INTO OUR CURLY LOCKS
WE SPLINT BROKEN WRIST WITH HELL
THEY’RE SO WRONG ABOUT US
At the dark end of the street
Under a dark cloud we meet
I’m too excited to stand in the back
We’re gonna slam gonna bang gonna dive off stacks
We’re all dirt poor, we yell and cuss
But you’re DEAD DEAD DEAD wrong about us.