Sorry Bro

Fifteen songs, fifteen shows
Fifteen pigs sucking at your tit
How does it feel to live here?
How does it feel to leave here?

Fifteen notes, fifteen notes
Fifteen dogs chewin' on your throat
How does it feel to come home?
I wish you had a home

And you've got nothing I want
But got something I need
You got the elegance, ability to breed

Traffic report, fifteen dead
A head-on collision
At least that's what I thought I'd read
We're the kids in America
We're the kids in America

Fifteen days, you're back on track
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 got something I love
You've got the charm and skills to rise above
You know how to be loved
And you're as clean as a broke dick

I don't want to be like you, but I'm still rooting for you
I would hate to be like you, but I'm still rooting for you
I would hate to be like you, but I'm still rooting for you
I don't want to be like you, but I'm 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
And they will tell you when to go
And they'll tell you who to know
And they will tell you when to stop
And then you'll stop