Sorry Bro

Fifteen songs, fifteen shows Fifteen pigs sucking at your tit How does it feel to live here? Fifteen notes, fifteen notes Fifteen dogs chewing on your throat How does it feel to come home? I wish you had a home You've got nothing I want but have something I need You've got the elegant ability to breathe Traffic report, fifteen dead A head-on collision, at least that what I though I read We're the kids in America! Fifteen days, you're back on track With fifteen ounces cut out of your fucking back How does it feel to be you? I do not envy you, dude You've got nothing I like but you got something I love You got the charm and the skills to rise above You know how to be loved And you're as clean as a broke dick dog I don't want to be like you But I'm still rooting for you I'd hate to be like you But in still rooting for you You've got nothing i hate but got something i loathe You still walk around letting other people pick out your clothes They will tell you where to go They'll tell you who to know And then they will tell you to stop And you'll stop