LYRIC

You call yourself a counter culture
Burt you counter nothing
You uphold the same sickening morals
Of the world you claim to loathe

You say one drink can't do any harm
But it turns into three or four
And before the night is over
You're lying passed out on the floor

Feed yourself that poison
Through a needle or up your nose
You need that shit to feel good
Your seld-esteem must be very low

I'm not saying we're better than you
I'm saying you're worse than us
Your lack of discipine
Is a disgrace to humankind

Wipe off the grin
I know where you've been
It's all a pack of lies
Pack of lies
Can't you see?
I hope you O. D.!

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