Sorry Bro

Fifteen songs, fifteen shows Fifteen pigs sucking at your tit How does it feel to live here? How does it feel to leave here? Fifteen notes, fifteen notes Fifteen dogs chewing on your throat How does it feel to come home? I wish you had a home And you've got nothing I want but got something I need You got the elegant ability to breathe Traffic report, fifteen dead A head-on collision, at least that's what I thought I had read We're the kids in America! (Whoa-whoa) We're the kids in America! Fifteen days, you're back on track With fifteen ounces cut out of your fucking back How does it feel to be you? I do not envy you, dude And you've got nothing I like but got something I love You got the charm and the skills to rise above You know how to be loved And you're as clean as a broke-dick dog And I don't wanna be like you But I'm still rooting for you I would hate to be like you But I'm still rooting for you I would hate to be like you But I'm still rooting for you I don't wanna be like you But I'm still rooting for you You've got nothing I hate but got something I loathe You still walk around letting other people pick out your clothes And they will tell you when to go They'll tell you who to know And they will tell you when to stop And then you'll stop