Luyện nghe bài hát Back to the Motor League

I to party fucking hard
I like my and roll the same
Don't give a fuck if I out
Don't give a fuck if I away.

So back to the Motor with me
who live through
before I'm to face the wrath of a well-heeled buying public
college-rock and floor-punching macho pabulum.

Back to the Motor I go.
Once thought I drew a hand.
Turned out to be a live

of "anarchists"
and Mommy's-little-skinheads, death-threats and
and wieners on straight-edge.

Who
off.
I'd rather Trip-Tiks than listen to your bullshit.

Who

off.
...about your stupid scenes, shitty zines,
the you build up to burn.

It never ceases to amaze me and as I'm
your perfection it me of my own race
mouthed
to my own sad history of
Teated
phone-books
Eaten

brawls.
But what have we
15 years it still reeks of 'Swill and Chickenshit Conformists
their fists in the air;
like-father, like-son "rebels on korn, eminems and bizkits.

Lord, hear our prayer: take your Amy Grant mosh-crews and
fair-weather politics.
Blow-dry my and stick me on a ten-speed.
I guess life is just a contest.

Back to the League.
Success, the ability to within a framework of obedience.
Just ask the candy-coated Joy-Cam selling shoes
rounding off the jagged venture-capitalists, silencing competing messages,