I'll keep it simple, I'll keep it direct
I'll spell it out so you can understand
You're just an image, a cheap facade
With fissures showing what you're trying to hide
A constant scowl, a strained rictus
Shallow breathing and a clenched anus
Hands that shake when not in a fist
From nerves that threaten to expose the myth
And when you fail because your act won't last
Call it a "phase," shrug it off and laugh
I'll laugh as well, inclined to agree
There's no passion in your dice and cherries
Just platitudes and thumping chests
Empty gestures that seem to suggest
You don't get it, you'll never know
No f*cking way you guys are rock and roll
You just traded your jackboots for converse
And a pair of 501's
The look's complete, but not the conversion
You're still f*cking knuckle dragging thugs