Luyện nghe bài hát Back to the Motor League

I like to party fucking
I like my rock and the same
Don't give a if I burn out
Don't a fuck if I fade away.

So back to the Motor with me
who vicariously through
before I'm forced to face the wrath of a well-heeled public
tortured-artist and floor-punching macho pabulum.

Back to the League I go.
Once thought I a lucky hand.
out to be a live grenade

of "anarchists"
and Mommy's-little-skinheads, and sycophants
and drunk on straight-edge.

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

Who

off.
...about your stupid scenes, shitty zines,
the straw-men you up to burn.

It never ceases to amaze me and as I'm
your it reminds me of my own race
feet
to redress my own sad of
Teated
phone-books
Eaten

brawls.
But have we here?
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 back Amy Grant mosh-crews and
your politics.
Blow-dry my hair and me on a ten-speed.
I guess life is a popularity contest.

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