There is monster incubating
Inside a teenage mom
That's a world outside, that's waiting
For him with the atom bomb
There is a body on the billboard
That he's never gonna get
If it was lying in his bed
He wouldn't know what to do with it
There's a Stack of Red Envelopes
There's a list of demands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
He'll use his skateboard for a weapon
He's gonna have a short fuse
He will grow up with holes in his jeans
And dirty white in the shoes
He's gonna love the smell of spray paint
He will be growing out his hair
He's gonna give the world the finger
To show that he don't care
No one ever listens
No one understands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
There is bars on the windows
There is a matress on the floor
There is an endless argument
On the other side of the door
He's gonna put on his headphones
To drown out the noise
'Cause Rock and roll is the only escape
For forgotten teenage boys
There is stack of Red Envelopes
There is a list of demands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
The blood is on your hands
Aaah
Uuuuh
Hey!