scratching at the bottom of a barrel
looking for the faces of my rage
anger produced for the sake of a song
faking dismay for just a moment
contrived, forced without reason
privileged upbringing... silver spoon in mouth
treat your wealth just like a fucking curse
sworn to rebellion, but it could be so much worse
sworn to rebellion, but it could be so much worse
what's left to scream about?
why am i losing my voice?
this bullshit angst it's just a passing fad.