(There are times when the dickheads really get to me. Then I wake up to it all , and everything is right with the world) I'm was sorry (though god knows why) Crawled under a rock but didn't die A fair ground ride, with no thrills and spills, A tired ghost train, with no chills I'm not sorry, I'm so contented The same old model, but re-invented Post my spite, in the boldest type, Yesterday's man with a go-faster hype. And I'm back. In your face Wrong time. Wrong taste. Not cut up. Cutting down What goes round comes around Can't undo. Can't amend Here to stay. Here's where it ends. I spell it out, in silver, black and white Where's the crime, in simply being right? Dead end kids brought to their knees Minds infected with their own disease I'm not sorry, I'm so contented The same old model, but re-invented Post my spite, in the boldest type, Yesterday's man with a go-faster hype. And I'm back. In your face Wrong time. Wrong taste. Not cut up. Cutting down What goes round comes around Can't undo. Can't amend Here to stay. Here's where it ends.