La casa fa un anno. Pregasi far girare la voce che non si fuma in casa.

Ampio terrazzo disponibile. Fate venire la GGente!

Chi lo sa, è invitato.

Portare amiche gnocche.

E qualcosa da mangiare se capita.

I’m the son or rage and love
The Jesus of suburbia
From the bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of
Soda pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my
Sins in hell as far as I can tell
At least the ones I’ve gotten away with

And there’s nothing wrong with me
This is how I’m supposed to be
In the land of make believe
That don’t believe in me

Get my television fix
Sitting on my crucifix
The living room on my private womb
While the moms and Brads are away
To fall in love and fall in debt
The alcohol and cigarettes
And Mary Jane to keep me insane
Doing someone else’s cocaine

And there’s nothing wrong with me
This is how I’m supposed to be
In the land of make believe
That don’t believe in me

At the center of the earth in the parking lot
Of the 7-11 where I was taught
The motto was just a lie
It says home is where your heart is
But what a shame
Cause everyone’s heart doesn’t beat the same
It’s beating out of time

City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care

I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures of the shopping mall
And so it seemed to confess
It didn’t say much but it only confirmed
That the center of the earth is the end of the world
And I could really care less

City of the dead
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to care

I don’t care if you don’t
I don’t care if you don’t
I don’t care if you don’t care
(x4)
[Jesus Of Suburbia lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

I don’t care

Everyone’s so full of shit
Born and raised by hypocrites
Hearts recycled but never saved
From the cradle to the grave
We are the kids of war and peace
From Anaheim to the Middle East
We are the stories and disciples of
The Jesus of suburbia

Land of make believe
And they don’t believe in me
Land of make believe
And they don’t believe
I don’t care
I don’t care
I don’t care
I don’t care
I don’t care!

Dearly beloved are you listening
I can’t remember a word that you were saying
Are we demented or am I disturbed
The space that’s in between insane and insecure

Oh therapy can you please fill the void
Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed
Nobodies perfect and I stand accused
For lack of a better word and that’s my best excuse

To live, and not to breathe
Is to die in tragedy
To run, to run away
To find what you believe

And I leave behind
This hurricane of f**king lies

I lost my friend to this
This town that don’t exist
So I run, I run away
The lies of massacres

And I leave behind
This hurricane of f**king lies
And I walked this line
A million and one f**king times
But not this time

I don’t feel any shame I won’t apologise
When there ain’t nowhere you can go
Running away from pain when you’ve been victimised
Tales of another broken
Home
You’re leaving
You’re leaving
You’re leaving
You’re leaving home!