Propaghandi - Back To The Motor League lyrics

rate me

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I like to party fucking hard. i like my rock and roll the same. don't give a fuck if

i burn out. don't give a fuck if i fade away. so back to the motor-league with me

before i'm forced to face t

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Ath of a well-heeled buying public who live vicariously through tortured-artist

college-rock and floor-punching macho pabulum. back to the motor league i go. once

thought i drew a lucky hand. tu

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Out to be a live grenade of play-acting "anarchists" and

mommy's-little-skinheads, death-threats and sycophants and wieners drunk on

straight-edge. fuck off. who cares? i'd rather hi-l

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Rip-tiks than listen to your bullshit. fuck off. who cares about your stupid scenes,

your shitty zines, the straw-men you build up to burn. it never ceases to amaze me

and as i'm suffering your

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Ction it reminds me of my own race to redress my own sad history of mouthed feet.

eaten hats. teated bulls. amish phone-books. drunken brawls. but what have we here?

15 years later it still reek

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¡®swill and chickenshit conformists wi

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Th their fists in the air; like-father, like-son "rebels¡± bloated on korn,

eminems and bizkits. lord, hear our prayer: take back your amy grant mosh-crews and

your fair-weather politics. b

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Ry my hair and stick me on a ten-speed. back to the motor league. i guess life is

just a popularity contest. success, the ability to perform within a framework of

obedience. just ask the candy-c

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Joy-cam rock-bands selling shoes for venture-capitalists, silencing competing

messages, rounding off the jagged edges. today is good day to die.

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