well the high school kids
they're all f***** up
touching each other OH MY GOD
yeah and 40 ounces is never enough
we wanna pass out in your yard we wanna PASS OUT
dressin in drag
in best friends clothes
while boys kiss boys in hotel rooms
oh and just when we thought
we were no longer lost
they kicked us out
to the dirty streets of Atlanta
so it's Friday night down on North Avenue
where the gas station parking lot prostitutes
will try to fix their hair in our rear view mirrors
you know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our a****
a caravan of kids a big old mess on
an old wooden dock
oh we're bored to death
we got a bottle of wine
a fresh pack of smokes
we're gonna end up screamin about
some midnight garage sale
so God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
God, put down your hand
we're not listening
oh the microphone cut off
so we're screaming at the top of our lungs
we are born so fresh a golden prize
until you scrape that knee and quickly realize
that you're lost in a fog on the way to death
for a big fat line
a thick black line
so you better speak up
better raise that voice
so come on scream loud
all you girls and boys
let's get wild wild wild, let's rejoice
so come on, come on
i wanna hear that f***** noise
oh the push and pull of everything
oh this nightmare of electricity
we are the living dead, yeah the living dead
that's the way it is that's the way it's always been
and oh that snake slithered past my house today
oh i heard he caught you on a dark highway
no the clouds didn't pour
they just grew into a storm
i can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder
God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
God put down your hand
we're not listening
God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
I said god put down your hand
we're not listening
oh we never were
i wanna f*** it up and i feel so alive and i feel.
they're all f***** up
touching each other OH MY GOD
yeah and 40 ounces is never enough
we wanna pass out in your yard we wanna PASS OUT
dressin in drag
in best friends clothes
while boys kiss boys in hotel rooms
oh and just when we thought
we were no longer lost
they kicked us out
to the dirty streets of Atlanta
so it's Friday night down on North Avenue
where the gas station parking lot prostitutes
will try to fix their hair in our rear view mirrors
you know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our a****
a caravan of kids a big old mess on
an old wooden dock
oh we're bored to death
we got a bottle of wine
a fresh pack of smokes
we're gonna end up screamin about
some midnight garage sale
so God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
God, put down your hand
we're not listening
oh the microphone cut off
so we're screaming at the top of our lungs
we are born so fresh a golden prize
until you scrape that knee and quickly realize
that you're lost in a fog on the way to death
for a big fat line
a thick black line
so you better speak up
better raise that voice
so come on scream loud
all you girls and boys
let's get wild wild wild, let's rejoice
so come on, come on
i wanna hear that f***** noise
oh the push and pull of everything
oh this nightmare of electricity
we are the living dead, yeah the living dead
that's the way it is that's the way it's always been
and oh that snake slithered past my house today
oh i heard he caught you on a dark highway
no the clouds didn't pour
they just grew into a storm
i can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder
God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
God put down your hand
we're not listening
God, put down your gun
can't you see we're dead
I said god put down your hand
we're not listening
oh we never were
i wanna f*** it up and i feel so alive and i feel.