| Go ahead and badge me president | 
| Of not giving into music’s bullshit | 
| And while you’re at it why don’t you just say | 
| The scene’s been dead since you last heard me say | 
| In the scene I stand, I’m surronded by a book | 
| A list of things I’m not, rebellion models think I should | 
| Be what they are, what they want me to be | 
| Now what the fuck is that, would you accept me? | 
| Me? | 
| No! | 
| Go ahead and burn your radio | 
| Or listen to their crap until it shows | 
| And while you’re at it why don’t you just say | 
| The scene’s been soft since you last heard me say | 
| Can’t you see your music’s based on rebellion | 
| Not, to follow all the rules, but to create like those who did it back then | 
| Keep it the same, no progress, yeah you’re fine the way it is | 
| Well, if you lock us up, then when will you let us out? | 
| It’s midnight in the city | 
| I’m two blocks from downtown | 
| My back pack’s full of fliers | 
| I’m gonna save the sound | 
| They’re stripping down the culture | 
| They’re dumbing down the arts | 
| They’re robbing us of music, yeah | 
| They’re robbing us of us | 
| I finally quit my job, yeah | 
| Quote me when I say | 
| I’m gonna take 'em on | 
| I’m my own D.J. | 
| runaway | 
| I’m sittin' on the curb | 
| Torn paper in my hand | 
| From the pen to my voice | 
| To your ears to your voice | 
| I’m taking back the rhythm | 
| I’m taking back the song | 
| I’m gonna show 'em up, yeah | 
| And it won’t take me that long | 
| It’s scary when I’m focused | 
| It’s a scary flat out brawl | 
| It’s scary that these kids these days | 
| They crazy have no balls | 
| So I’m going to the clubs | 
| Where what I hear is right | 
| Their big money don’t intimidate me | 
| Forever I will write | 
| Let’s show 'em that we mean it | 
| Let’s show 'em we won’t die | 
| Let’s all plug right in and point our amps at the sky | 
| Bam! | 
| Go ahead and burn your radio |