Store bought emotion, 
Your meaningless passions, 
It makes me sick, 
Your head is too thick. 
Your half-way excuses have no one convinced, 
Dig your face into that pile of [bad word]  
Slow and pathetic, it just makes my head ache, 
But you've gone dull, your stomach's too full, 
Your freedom is shrinking but your body has grown big, 
Shoveling what's handed, so you dig. 
We pledge allegiance for these [bad word] pigs? 

I knew the real world would be something like this, 
but I'd never take the chance on life if that's all there is. 
Should I be a “scholar”? Or just more of a “man”? 
With a 40 hour work week and diploma in hand? 
Who are you, American? 
(dig.) 
I knew the real world would be something like this, but I quit.