Propagandhi - Back To The Motor League Lyrics
I like to party *****ing hardI like my rock and roll the sameDon't give a ***** if I burn outDon't give a ***** if I fade away.So back to the Motor League with mebefore I'm forced to face the wrath of a well-heeled buying publicwho live vicariously throughtortured-artist college-rock and floor-punching macho pabulum.Back to the Motor League I go.Once thought I drew a lucky hand.Turned out to be a live grenadeof play-acting "anarchists"and Mommy's-little-skinheads, death-threats and sycophantsand wieners drunk on straight-edge.***** off.Who cares?I'd rather hi-lite Trip-Tiks than listen to your bullshit.***** off.Who cares...about your stupid scenes, your shitty zines,the straw-men you build up to burn.It never ceases to amaze me and as I'm sufferingyour perfection it reminds me of my own raceto redress my own sad history ofmouthed feetEaten hatsTeated bullsAmish phone-booksDrunken brawls.But what have we here?15 years later it still reeks of 'Swill and Chickenshit Conformistswith their fists in the air;like-father, like-son "rebels bloated on korn, eminems and bizkits.Lord, hear our prayer: take back your Amy Grant mosh-crews andyour fair-weather politics.Blow-dry my hair and stick me on a ten-speed.Back to the Motor League.I guess life is just a popularity contest.Success, the ability to perform within a framework of obedience.Just ask the candy-coated Joy-Cam rock-bands selling shoesfor venture-capitalists, silencing competing messages,rounding off the jagged edges
