Well, the high school kids, they're all fucked up Touching each other, oh my God Yeah, and forty ounces was never enough We want to pass out in your yard, we want to pass out
Dressing in drag, your best friend's clothes While boys kissed boys in hotel rooms Oh, and just when we thought we were no longer lost They kicked us out into the dirty streets of Atlanta
So it's Friday night down on North Avenue Where the gas station parking lot prostitutes Tried to fix their hair in our rear view mirrors You know, we're just trying to get to the club and shake our asses
A caravan of kids, some big old mess On an old wooden dock, oh, we're bored to death We've got a bottle of wine, a fresh pack of smokes We're going to end up screaming about some midnight garage sale
God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? God, put down your hand, we're not listening The microphone cut off So we're screaming at the top of our lungs.
We are born so fresh, a golden prize Until you scrape that knee and quickly realize That you're lost in a fog on your way to death Oh, a thick black line, a thick black line
So you better speak up, better raise that voice Come on, scream loud, all you girls and boys Let's get wild, wild, wild, let's rejoice C'mon, c'mon, I want to hear that fucking noise
Oh, the push and pull of everything Oh, this nightmare of electricity We are the living dead, yeah, the living dead. That's the way it is, That's the way it's always been
Oh, that snake slithered past my house today Oh, I heard he caught you on a dark highway No, the clouds didn't part, they just grew into a storm I can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder
God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? God, put down your hand, we're not listening God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead? I said, "God put down your hand, we're not listening, oh, we never were"