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
