Against Me! Album

We charge into danger.
No guarantees or safe places.
No one can be trusted,
everyone is a suspect.
All the money's worthless.
The talent is trite and exaggerated.
The food is turning and the water is poison.
The food is turning and the water's fucking poisoned.
And it's rotting your teeth right out of your head,
sight and hearing are quickly faded.
Your gut's expanding, your hairline's receding.
The sores are opening and the cancer's spreading.
And the antibiotics aren't working,
All the drugs are just strangely sobering.
And the skeletons in your closet have opened the door and
they've started talking.

Just like Miami!
Miami!
Fucking Miami.
Miami!

Sharks circling for the feeding.
All hope has been abandoned, like ballots drifting into the ocean.

Just like Miami!
Miami!
Fucking Miami!
Miami!

Sharks circling for the feeding.
All hope has been abandoned, like ballots drifting into the ocean.

Hey!

They're in your room while you're sleeping.
They're in your car behind the seat waiting.
All the rifle sights are on the back of your head.
They're slipping it into your drink when you're not looking.
And they're selling it to you as art.
It's every other word in movies and songs.
All the public is buying,
it's business as usual,
and the business is capitalizing
on your fear, your greed, your perversions and vices.
They say you're guilty, they've got the evidence to prove it.
The mistakes are obvious, the faults are glaring.
The plane is on fire, the fucking ship is sinking.
And you're swept away in a hurricane.
You're buried in the rubble of an earthquake.
It's terminal,
inoperable,
they're amputating!
Massive hemmorrhaging,
major fucking complications!

Just like Miami!
Miami!
Fucking Miami!
Miami!

Sharks circling for the feeding.
All hope has been abandoned, like ballots drifting into the ocean.

Just like Miami!
Miami!
Fucking Miami!
Miami!

Sharks circling for the feeding.
All hope has been abandoned, like ballots drifting into the ocean.

Miami!

Foul play! There's a target on the audience
Vampires! We're only in it for the money.
Diluted! We took the movement to the market.
So fuck us! We totally sold out the scene.

Excite me, excite me.
Nothing really excites me.
There's no connection at all.
There's no connection at all.
Excite me, excite me.
Nothing really excites me.
There's no connection at all.
No connection at all.

Co-opted! There's vultures preying on the underground.
It's packaged! It's just fashion and rebellion.
Mainstream! It was better in the basement.
Lynch mob! Tar and feather the pretenders in the streets.

Excite me, excite me.
Nothing really excites me.
There's no connection at all.
There's no connection at all.
Excite me, excite me.
Nothing really excites me.
There's no connection at all.
No connection at all

They're advertising on the TV.
"Become a soldier,"
It's still high school politics, you know.
Nothing's changed, jocks and assholes still don't know shit about aesthetic.
I think I smell a rat.
We sold our revenge, now we're working for them.

Where's the divide?

You know Justin? Well, Justin's dead.
And Yahoo won't let his family have access to his e-mail account,
The news reporter said:
"I feel so bad for you, it's so awkward.
There's really nothing I can say,
[Cut to commercial break]
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays from network and its affiliates."

So where's the divide?
Where's the divide?
Where's the divide?

Everyone's a critic, but hey they really respect your talent.
Have your manager call my manager, and we'll make records together.
At this level of success in entertainment, there are certain confrontations.
It's a "you give we take" relationship.
The kids just wouldn't understand it.
Come on now, how long do think this is really gonna last?
How long can you hold their attention? How long before they move on to the next band?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?

Coordinate the marketing, label, publicity, touring.
Consult on, timing and presentation.
Go ahead put this in context.
It's 3 points on production, 15% to management,
10% to the agent, 5% to legal representation.
We call it our insurance plan to stretch the inevitable as far as we can.
Gotta make your money while you got the chance,
do whatever it takes to sell it.

On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
(Let's go)
Just how desperate can we be?
Go buy our record and see.
Just how angry can we seem?
Go buy our record and see.
Just how fucked up can it get?
Go buy our record and see.
Just how much can we bleed?
We're completely irrelevant on LP and compact disc.

On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?
On the inside.
On the inside.
On the inside.
Do you wanna know how it feels on the inside?

Regime change under a Bush doctrine of democratic installations.
Constant war for constant soldiers.
What are we gonna do now?
De-escalation, through military force.
Increase the pressure, Oh Condoleeza
What should we do about the situation in Iran and North Korea?

Condoleeza.

Democratic election under Marshall law.
An Iraqi president out of control of our choices.
After all this death and destruction
Do you really think your actions advocate freedom?
The presidents giving a speech in Georgetown
To remember the voice of a slain civil rights leader,
Do you understand what the martyrs stood for?
Oh Condoleeza do you get the fucking joke?

Condoleeza
Condoleeza
Condoleeza
What are we gonna do now?
Condoleeza
Condoleeza
Condoleeza
What are we gonna do now?

Lock the door, to your room.
Pray they don't find us, pray they don't kick it down.
Oh you've been keeping secrets,
and these kind of lies have consequences.
So many possibilities for this to all end badly.
It's almost guaranteed.
Nothing but shame and paranoia.
A slightly desperate feeling to calm you to sleep.

What could we have done to deserve the violence like this?
What could we have done to deserve the violence like this?

And we'll watch the light, coming under the door.
Listen for footsteps coming down the hall.
Are you gonna wake up screaming through a slit throat?
Young flesh searing on a twin mattress.
But it doesn't have to be, the way things end.
We don't have to give up just yet.

What could we have done to deserve the violence like this?
What could we have done to deserve the violence like this?

What are you gonna say when she picks up the phone?
Should you leave a message if she's not at home?
I wanted to know if you'd like to see a movie or get a drink.
It would be cool just to be in your company.
But if she says yes know what intentions might be.
If one thing leads to another and there's some chemistry.
You cannot lie, you have to tell the truth.
You have to explain why this could never be, because

There are things that cannot be undone.
There are mistakes that will never be forgiven.
Sometimes at night, I pray to wake a different person in a different place.

Maybe we could just be friends.
I'm being a bit presumptuous.
The stomach churns, the mind starts to race.
You nervously start to exaggerate.
I just want to be young, I want to live.
I want to be healthy,
I don't want this problem.
You wouldn't think something like irresponsibility,
would complicate something like asking for a girl's company.

But there are things you must accept as said and done.
There are truths you must learn to confront.
You can pray all night and day.
You'll always wake the same person in the same place.

Drunk mouth ruined it again.
Sometimes I say the dumbest things.
Baby it's not you specifically it could be anybody.
I gone and built this up in my head and now it's all already over.
It's all ready before it ever started

Now I wake up around 4 or 5.
Eat, shower, and get dressed in about an hour's time.
Take my vitamins, check my messages, and call around to some friends,
make plans for dinner and drinks sometime after 9:00.
Oh we're definitely going to call it in early tonight.
Well, I need to dry out and take some time to clear my mind.
Now before you know it here I am again, it's fucking 2:00 in the morning,
standing in a bar, with a drink in hand.

How low can you go before you can't turn around?

Now seriously, this is my last and final time.
Well I'm making some big, big changes in my life.
No, you won't catch me down here again, waiting to score sweaty money palmed into my hand.
What the fuck are you cutting this with anyway?
Because I have got some really, really big plans.
And today's the day I'm putting them into action.
But before you know it, here I am again. It's fucking 6:00 in the morning.
Rolled up dollar bill in my hand.

How low can you go before you can't turn around?

And I'm sick of feeling like I'm losing my mind.
Sick of doing the same things night after night.
Sick of self-loathing and self-absorbtion,
self-destructive narcissism.
I'm sick to death of being constantly fucking sick of.

I don't know who I can trust.
Thought there was us, now there is no one

All's quiet, except for this song.
So maybe while I'm not together I can feel like I'm not alone.
And somewhere off in the distance, rapidly advancing, is an onslaught of sorts.
Young sirens wail with a skewed sense of glory.
And the lions in the cages roar at the memory of flight.

And there's a joy, a joy in all I can see.
A joy, in every possibility.

And all around this is a great, great feeling.
American rockets red-glared our most
disgusting triumph.
And in passing I am asked "Do you believe in a God?",
I shrug off the answer and continue to get high in this terror of no explanation.
I am looking for a faith.
My panic is an only reason.

And there's a joy, a joy in all I can see.
A joy, in every possibility

I am oh so fascinated,
I am oh so entertained,
Standing here like a comedian,
I repeat what I've said, again and again and again
until the meaning has become an imitation of itself,
An impression of an original defeats the fucking purpose.
I don't know where this is going,
but it's looking more and more like the same place that we started.

Oh good God, holy shit, the joke's on us, not on them.
Just pretending to be astronauts, police officers, and firemen.

Oh good God, holy shit, the joke's on us, not on them.
Just pretending to be astronauts, police officers, and firemen.

And everybody's watching the lead singer in the band.
The guitars exploding to a drumbeat that's driving.
It's pretty fucking boring, oh don't you think?
And of all the things we'd ask,
of all the ways we'd like for it to be,
they're just drunken conversations,
song lyrics sung at the top of our lungs so desperately.
Like I believe in a power that is of and by the people?
I believe in an art that cannot be compromised.
I believe that I will endure, and I will overcome.
And I will sing it until I no longer remember the reason.
What was the reason?

Oh good God, holy shit, joke's on us, not on them.
Just pretending to be astronauts, police officers, and firemen.

Oh good God, holy shit, joke's on us, not on them.
Just pretending to be astronauts, police officers, and firemen

You can have it all, I ain't got the heart to fight, no.
Total exhaustion, complete breakdown. For the asshole I am,
apologies in full, please leave me alone.
Pull over the van, let me out.

And we'll give the money back, to the record label.
Fire the agent, fire the manager.
We ain't got what it takes, to make it.
We got indifference, got no respect for them.
Feels like you already said so much,
feels like you can never say enough.
Let someone else take our place,
let them be your entertainment.

You know they're waiting,
(you know they're waiting)
You know they're waiting,
(you know they're waiting)
You know they're waiting,
(they're just waiting)
To tear us apart

You know they're waiting,
(you know they're waiting)
You know they're waiting,
(you know they're waiting)
You know they're waiting,
(they're just waiting.)
To tear us apart

An inventory has been taken of every belonging
An estimated value sold in event of emergencies
The only backup plan in case it doesn't work out
In losing all semblance of coherence to a former self
You know I am becoming the choices we're making

No problems,
problems with everything
Problems,
problems with everything
Oh God No...

Sometimes it's like conversations are a waking dream
A third party perspective
An audience to themselves
You can almost hear the sound traveling
It's caused a feeling of anticipation
When all of the sudden you know what's gonna happen
They saw the paranoids, they rebuild your world
They neither eat nor sleep they have no name you know..

Here in the worst, I will become, the best of them all

No more problems,
problems with anything
No more problems,
problems with anything

You're coming off kinda contrived and pretentious.
You're not saying anything we haven't heard before.
You're caught up in an argument.
And you're so lost in modern art.

You will lose it all.
And you will find again.
Don't lose touch.
Don't lose touch.

S.O.S. texted from a cell phone?
Please tell me I'm not the only one,
that thinks we're taking ourselves too seriously,
Just a little too enamored with inflated self-purpose.

Talk is cheap.
And it doesn't mean much.
Don't lose touch.
Don't lose touch.
I'm losing touch.
I'm losing touch.

Constant entertainment for our restless minds.
Constant stimulation for epic appetites.
Is there something wrong with these songs?
Maybe there's something wrong with the audience.
Manipulation in rock music, fucking nausea.

I'm losing touch.
I'm losing touch, and it's obvious

No the doctors didn't tell you,
that you were dying.
They just collected their money,
And sent you on your way.
But you knew all along,
went on pretending nothing was wrong,
you said I will keep my focus, till the end.
And in the journal you kept,
by the side of your bed.
You wrote nightly in aspiration,
of developing as an author.
Confessing childhood secrets,
of dressing up in women's clothes,
Compulsions you never knew the reasons to,
Well everyone, you ever meet or love,
be just relationship based on a false presumption,
despite everyone, you ever meet or love,
in the end, will you be all alone?
As the disease spreads slowly through your body,
pumped by your heart to the tips of your arms and your legs,
your greatest fear was that your mind wouldn't last,
your coherency and alertness would be the first things to fade,
as your hair thinned, as the weight fell off, as your teeth blackened,
as the lesions spotted your skin,
as you fell to your knees in the center of the stage,
as you offered witness to mortality in exchange for the ticket price,
as the lights blended into the continuing noise,
as all hope was finally lost.
Adrenaline carried one last thought to fruition.
Let this be the end.
Let this be the last song.
Let this be the end.
Let all be forgiven