Текст и слова песни Bomb The Music Industry! – Unlimited Breadsticks, Soup And Salad Days
I bought a couch and a grill and a table with chairs,
Paid for gas, like, the whole way down here,
Electric n' cable, a shelf n' end table,
Almost a hundred bucks worth of veggie burgers and buns.
I bought a case of beer and the charcoal to light
And said "we should do this every single night,
Don't worry about the cash because I've got the scratch
And I can't save my money because that's impolite."
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year
And I'm bitching about internet and beer.
And just like that I'm broke, not a buck to my name
And nothing to do with the rest of the day.
No parties last all night, just tv and websites
And reproduction Peanuts strips I've read a million times.
Can we please ride bikes and not just sit inside
All day letting fresh Georgia air go to waste?
It's really not funny how bad I am with money
So let's pedal as far as it takes to think about something else.
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year,
Somebody break out the no more tears.
As we sit around being broke, I'm losing my penchant for jokes;
It's just wry half-truths from a privileged youth
With a constant nostalgia for bad times when they're through.
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year,
And no one wants to be around me now,
Not then, not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever again.
Paid for gas, like, the whole way down here,
Electric n' cable, a shelf n' end table,
Almost a hundred bucks worth of veggie burgers and buns.
I bought a case of beer and the charcoal to light
And said "we should do this every single night,
Don't worry about the cash because I've got the scratch
And I can't save my money because that's impolite."
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year
And I'm bitching about internet and beer.
And just like that I'm broke, not a buck to my name
And nothing to do with the rest of the day.
No parties last all night, just tv and websites
And reproduction Peanuts strips I've read a million times.
Can we please ride bikes and not just sit inside
All day letting fresh Georgia air go to waste?
It's really not funny how bad I am with money
So let's pedal as far as it takes to think about something else.
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year,
Somebody break out the no more tears.
As we sit around being broke, I'm losing my penchant for jokes;
It's just wry half-truths from a privileged youth
With a constant nostalgia for bad times when they're through.
I don't know why I always complain about something
When what I got to complain about's nothing.
No goddamn kid's had a luckier year,
And no one wants to be around me now,
Not then, not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever again.
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