I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of suburbia 
From the bible of none of the above 
On a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin 
No one ever died for my sins in [bad word] 
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 [bad word] 
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 and 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 were 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 
At the end of another lost highway 
Signs misleading to nowhere 
City of the damned 
Lost children with dirty faces today 
No one really seems to care 

I read the graffiti 
In the bathroom stall 
Like the holy scriptures of a 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
At the end of another lost highway
Signs misleading to nowhere
City of the damned
Lost children with dirty faces today
No one really seems to careeeeee