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