Picked on, picked last, Can't forget, bottom of the class But so cynical and typical, I judged them, before they judged me I guess i smelled bad, i didn't care, My school was empty, i wasn't there Smiles were imitation like every grade, Intelligence had nothing to do with what i made Yo hot breath, you need some tic-tacs, Industrial strength, make sure it lasts The stereo never stopped, i'd sleep and listen, Albums played for weeks and that was the mission I would soak up every band's album, Maybe one day it'd rub off on me I'd start a band, write amazing songs, We'd tour till the sun caved in I'd finally meet one of my goals, I'd finally be good at something Yo hot breath, you need some tic-tacs, Industrial strength, make sure it lasts My roots are buried beneath ten years of concrete And that's where they think they should be That's where they think they should be
