All I ever really wanted was to hear the song on the radio,
And I really thought that you'd understand,
But everytime we see you,
You just hold out ur hand.
And it's not like we make a whole lot of money. (It's not like we make a whole lot of money.)
But you took our CDs and charge us a fee,
And then you disappear on me.
So I say!
I hope you die in a fire,
And the smoke fills up your lungs until you fucking choke.
And the last thing that you'll see is a silhoute of me,
Laughing at you as you die,
Because I fucking hate you.
You never really wanted us to be here,
Are we just another one you stepped on,
Are we just like everyone you've stepped on.
And it's not like we make a whole lot of money. (It's not like we make a whole lot of money.)
Or drive fancy cars or special guitars,
Cause we can't afford to.
So I say!
I hope you die in a fire,
And the smoke fills up your lungs until
You fucking choke.
And the last thing that you'll see is a silhoute of me,
Laughing at you as you die,
Because I fucking hate you.
I hope you die in a fire,
And the smoke fills up your lungs until you fucking choke.
How does it feel when they burned you?
(And the smoke it stinks up your car out your rolled eyes.)
And you... die!
And the last thing that you'll see is a silhoute of me,
Laughing at you as you die,
Cause I fucking hate you.