Luyện nghe bài hát Back to the Motor League

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

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

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

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

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

Who

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

It ceases to amaze me and as I'm suffering
perfection it reminds me of my own race
mouthed
to my own sad history of
Teated
Amish
hats

brawls.
But what we here?
15 years later it 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 and stick me on a ten-speed.
I guess life is just a contest.

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