Vārdi: Say Anything. Admit It.

Admit it
Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance
And vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs
You know nothing about art or sex
That you couldn't read in any trendy New York underground fashion magazine
Prototypical non-conformist
You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store Gestapo
You adhere to a set of standards and tastes
That appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges, bullshit
Giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art
Go analog baby, you're so post-modern
You're diving face forward into a antiquated path
It's disgusting, its offensive, don't stick your nose up at me

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends
Pontificating to each other
Forever competing for that one moment of self-aggrandizing glory
In which you hog the intellectual spotlight
Holding dominion over the entire shallow pointless conversation
Oh, we're not worthy
When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people
You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff
It's the same superiority complex
Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell
And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma
You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Cause I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar

Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah

Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved
I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled
I worry about how this album will sell
Because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future
I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety

You are a faker, admit it
You are a fraud, admit it
Yeah, you're living a lie, hey, living a lie, hey, you're life is living a lie
You don't impress me, admit it
You don't intimidate me, admit it
Why don't you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank, yeah

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah, what do you

Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my
Guitar, guitar go

I drift drift drift drift drift yeah
I drift drift drift drift drift yeah oh

And I am done with this
I wanna taste the breeze of every great city
My car and my guitar
My car and my guitar
So you'll come to be, made of these, urgent unfulfilled
Oh no no no no no
When I'm dead I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest way still
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest