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They say we'll never get jobs lookin' this way We laugh A job ain't nothin but work and we're not for sale, anyway Letters scrawled on collar bones remind that while they're dead we're still alive While complacency commands them, we're driven by this rage that guides Measuring success in happiness They can keep their endless quest for emptiness We place more value in the wax that's been pressed They can judge, but the real judgment is left to the kids of dissidence Brought together by the spin of a record while the world spins out of control A tribe arises out of hollow high rises, screaming above the din of advertisments: It's not for us It's not for us It's not They say that we're the kids who will never fit in We laugh ... here's hoping! Measuring success in happiness They can keep their endless quest for emptiness We gain our values in the wax that's been pressed They can judge, but the real judgment is left to the kids of dissidence... ... the kids who will never sell out and never buy in