Luyện nghe bài hát Back to the Motor League

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

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

Back to the League I go.
thought I drew a lucky 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 hi-lite Trip-Tiks listen to your bullshit.

Who

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

It never ceases to me and as I'm suffering
perfection it reminds me of my own race
mouthed
to redress my own sad of
Teated
phone-books
Eaten

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

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

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