Texty: Die Young. The Message. Anthem Of The Prodigal Son.

Raised too high too soon in the game
sowed all my seeds still waiting for rain
life has come to mean writhing in pain
but I don't regret a fucking thing...

what a petty waste of time--your politics, your dollar signs
take me back to distant shores or vacant rooftops under the stars
where is the romance in your sterile world of suits and ties?
if poverty of wealth means richness in soul
then I have been made whole

when we die
we are immortalized not in clouds
but in words we dared to scream aloud
(I scream aloud)

this rebellion is not a phase
I'll hate you all for the rest of my days

red-brick walls of false security
the facades of your broken dreams
the hand that feeds won't let you breathe
yet you run back to your cage

when we die
we are immortalized not in clouds
but in the words we dared to scream aloud
(I scream aloud)

as you bow down to your gods...
I renounce the world you love