We're the band with our own label
That's money under the table, that's answering to no one
But still, other bands just love to hate us
Talking [bad word] behind us, but smiling to our face

That's OK, it's not that they don't like us
They're just a little jealous, cause
We're having more fun
(the band that wouldn't die)
We're the self-crowned kings of candor, sultans of slander
Bastions of D.I.Y.

Which means we make more money, we've got better prescriptions
We own most of our own music, no one's got their hands in our pockets
We don't have management, we get to play loaded
And only 3 months a year
Some years we just take off, vacations are a write off,
And so is goin' out  [bad word] us)
I suppose that's how we'll go out, 
Played out and way after our time