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Born into Nixon, I was raised in hell.
A welfare child where the teamsters dwell.
The last one born, the first one to run.
My town was blind from the refinery sun.
My generation is zero.
I never made it as a working class hero.
21st century breakdown.
I once was lost but never was found.
I think I'm losing what's left of my mind
To the 20th century deadline.
I was made of poison and blood.
Condemnation is what I understood.
Videogames of the tower's fall
Homeland security could kill us all.
My generation is zero.
I never made it as a working class hero.
21st century breakdown.
I once was lost but never was found.
I think I'm losing what's left of my mind
To the 20th century deadline.
We are the class of thirteen.
Born in the era of humility.
We are the desperate and in the decline.
Raised by the bastards of 1969.
My name is 'no-one', the long lost son.
Born on the 4th of July.
Raised in the era of heroes and cons.
Left me for dead or alive.
I am a nation, a worker or pride.
My debt to the status quo.
The scars on my hands are a means to an end.
It's all that I have to show.
I swallowed my pride
and I choked on my faith
I've given my heart and my soul
I've broken my fingers
and lied through my teeth
the pillar of damage control
I've been to the edge
and I've thrown the bouquet
of flowers left over the grave
I sat in the waiting room
wasting my time
and waiting for judgment day
I Praise Liberty
The freedom to obey
It's the song that strangles me
Well, don't cross the line
dream, American dream.
I can't even sleep.
from the light's early dawn
scream, America scream.
Believe what you see
from heroes and cons.
Born into Nixon, I was raised in hell.
A welfare child where the teamsters dwell.
The last one born, the first one to run.
My town was blind from the refinery sun.
My generation is zero.
I never made it as a working class hero.
21st century breakdown.
I once was lost but never was found.
I think I'm losing what's left of my mind
To the 20th century deadline.
I was made of poison and blood.
Condemnation is what I understood.
Videogames of the tower's fall
Homeland security could kill us all.
We are the class of thirteen.
Born in the era of humility.
We are the desperate and in the decline.
Raised by the bastards of 1969.
My name is 'no-one', the long lost son.
Born on the 4th of July.
Raised in the era of heroes and cons.
Left me for dead or alive.
I am a nation, a worker or pride.
My debt to the status quo.
The scars on my hands are a means to an end.
It's all that I have to show.
I swallowed my pride
and I choked on my faith
I've given my heart and my soul
I've broken my fingers
and lied through my teeth
the pillar of damage control
I've been to the edge
and I've thrown the bouquet
of flowers left over the grave
I sat in the waiting room
wasting my time
and waiting for judgment day
I Praise Liberty
The freedom to obey
It's the song that strangles me
Well, don't cross the line
dream, American dream.
I can't even sleep.
from the light's early dawn
scream, America scream.
Believe what you see
from heroes and cons.
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