I fuckin' love that one rock video where
that fucking fat-ass mohawked millionaire
prances around by far the worst
sausage party on earth,
where by mere chance he's caught on film shaking hands
with an incredibly diverse collection of patriotic skins.
I like the message it sends: With a Rebel™ yell,
Just Do Exactly What You're Told.
One million douche bags can't be wrong?
"When did punk rock become so safe?"
You'll excuse me if I laugh in your face
as I itemize your receipts
and PowerPoint your balance sheets.
I hear this year's Vans Warped Tour is "going green!"
I guess they heard that money grows on trees.
Hope they ship all those shitty bands overseas
like they did the factories.

Music's power to
describe, compel, renew …
It's all a distant second
to the offers you can't refuse.
Anyone remember when we used to believe
that music was a sacred place and not some
fucking bank machine?
Not something you just bought and sold?
How could we have been so naïve?
Well, I think when all is said and done,
just cuz we were young
doesn't mean we were wrong.

And I'll rock back and forth
on this two-bit hobbyhorse
'til she splinters and gives way.
I'll tend the flowers by her grave.
And whisper her name.

If anyone out there understands
can I please see a show of hands
just so I know I'm not insane?
Ever get the feeling you been played?
Well, that's rock for sustainable
capitalism and you know,
we may face a scorched and lifeless earth,
but they're accountable to their shareholders first.
That's how the world works.

Vídeo incorreto?