Jesus of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
The bible of "none of the above"
On a steady diet of
Soda pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my sins in hell
As far as I can tell
At least the ones I got away with

And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a land of make-believe
That don't believe in me

Get my television fix
Sitting on my crucifix
The living room or my private womb
While the moms and Brads are away
To fall in love and fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane
To keep me insane
Doing someone else's cocaine

And there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a land of make-believe
That don't believe in me

At the center of the earth, in the parking lot
Of the 7-11 where I was taught
The motto was just a lie
It says, "Home is where your heart is," but what a shame
'Cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same
It's beating out of time

City of the dead (hey, hey)
At the end of another lost highway (hey, hey)
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned (hey, hey)
Lost children with dirty faces today (hey, hey)
No one really seems to care

I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures of the shopping mall
And so it seemed to confess
It didn't say much, but it only confirmed
That the center of the earth is the end of the world
And I could really care less

City of the dead (hey, hey)
At the end of another lost highway (hey, hey)
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned (hey, hey)
Lost children with dirty faces today (hey, hey)
No one really seems to care (hey)

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care

I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't
I don't care if you don't care
I don't care

Everyone's so full of shit
Born and raised by hypocrites
Hearts recycled, but never saved
From the cradles to the grave
We are the kids of war and peace
From Anaheim to the Middle East
We are the stories and disciples of
The Jesus of Suburbia

Land of make-believe
And it don't believe in me
Land of make-believe (said, now it's, it's another lie)
And I don't believe

And I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo)
I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo)
I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo)
I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo)
I don't care

Dearly beloved, are you listening?
I can't remember a word that you were saying
Are we demented, or am I disturbed?
The space that's in between insane and insecure

Ooh
Ooh

(Ooh) oh therapy, can you please fill the void?
(Ooh) am I retarded, or am I just overjoyed?
(Ooh) nobody's perfect, and I stand accused
(Ooh) for lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse

Ooh
Ooh

To live and not to breathe
Is to die in tragedy
To run, to run away
To find what you believe

And I leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies

I lost my faith to this
This town that don't exist
So I run, I run away
To the light of masochists

And I leave behind
This hurricane of fucking lies
And I've walked this line
A million and one fucking times
But not this time

I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize
When there ain't nowhere you can go
Runnin' away from pain when you've been victimized
Tales from another broken home

You're leavin'
You're leavin'
You're leavin'
Are you leavin' home?