Tekst piosenki:
Ten, ten, ten, nine times out of ten
You know how it ends
You know how it ends
All we want in this life, is a guitar and a mic
And a full count baby, three balls, two strikes
Twitchy kid in class, skin, bones, buck teeth
A mask, Oscar Wilde, the truth beneath, you asked
Learned our scales, learned when we failed
Know we got a sound, that ain't going stale
And we ain't on sale, independent as fuck
EL-P wanna be's, mother-fucking bang for your buck
You poor guys make bucket lists
Rare Americans we take fuckin risks
It's a different way to live
It's a different way to live
No we don't give a fuck about critics cats
Let us get through to you
Were the man in the arena
And theres always someone eager to boo at you
Ten, ten, ten, nine times out of ten
You know how it ends
You know how it ends
We can sing motherfucker we're the real McCoy
We have a presence on a stage, we're JT Leroy
We're the musical embodiment of d.b cooper
Drop parachute lines, people in a stupor
We weren't worth bettin' on? Like some kinda green monkey?
We got news for you, on the fatness scale
We are fucking chunky
You poor guys make bucket lists
Rare Americans we take fuckin risks
It's a different way to live
It's a different way to live
No we don't give a fuck about critics cats
Let us get through to you
Were the man in the arena
And theres always someone eager to boo at you
No we don't give a fuck about critics cats
Let us get through to you
Were the man in the arena
And theres always someone eager to boo at you
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