Jesus of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love The Jesus of Suburbia The bible of "none of the above" On a steady diet of Soda pop and Ritalin No one ever died for my sins in hell 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 crucifix 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 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 where 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 (hey, hey) At the end of another lost highway (hey, hey) Signs misleading to nowhere City of the damned (hey, hey) Lost children with dirty faces today (hey, hey) No one really seems to care I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall Like the holy scriptures of the 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 (hey, hey) At the end of another lost highway (hey, hey) Signs misleading to nowhere City of the damned (hey, hey) Lost children with dirty faces today (hey, hey) No one really seems to care (hey) I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't care I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't care I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't care I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't I don't care if you don't care I don't care Everyone's so full of shit Born and raised by hypocrites Hearts recycled, but never saved From the cradles to the grave We are the kids of war and peace From Anaheim to the Middle East We are the stories and disciples of The Jesus of Suburbia Land of make-believe And it don't believe in me Land of make-believe (said, now it's, it's another lie) And I don't believe And I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo) I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo) I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo) I don't care (whoo, whoo, whoo) I don't care Dearly beloved, are you listening? I can't remember a word that you were saying Are we demented, or am I disturbed? The space that's in between insane and insecure Ooh Ooh (Ooh) oh therapy, can you please fill the void? (Ooh) am I retarded, or am I just overjoyed? (Ooh) nobody's perfect, and I stand accused (Ooh) for lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse Ooh Ooh To live and not to breathe Is to die in tragedy To run, to run away To find what you believe And I leave behind This hurricane of fucking lies I lost my faith to this This town that don't exist So I run, I run away To the light of masochists And I leave behind This hurricane of fucking lies And I've walked this line A million and one fucking times But not this time I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize When there ain't nowhere you can go Runnin' away from pain when you've been victimized Tales from another broken home You're leavin' You're leavin' You're leavin' Are you leavin' home?