I like to party f___ing hard
I like my rock and roll the same
Don't give a f___ if I burn out
Don't give a f___ if I fade away

Back to the Motor League with me
Before I'm forced to face the wrath of a well-heeled buying public
Who live vicariously through
Tortured-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 grenade

Oh my god! Holy s___! Whoa!

Of play-acting "anarchists" and mommy's little Skinheads
Death-threats and sycophants and wieners drunk on straight-edge
f___ off! Who cares?
I'd rather highlight Trip-Tiks than listen to your bullshit
f___ off! Who cares
About your stupid scenes, your s___ty zines, the straw-men you build up to burn?

It never ceases to amaze [me]
And as I'm suffering your perfection it reminds me of my own race
Who redress our own sad history of
Mouthed feet, eaten hats, teated bulls
Amish phone-books, drunken brawls

But, what have we here?
15 years later it still reeks of Swill and Chickenshit Conformists
With 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 and fair-weather politics
Blow-dry my hair
And stick me on a ten-speed
Back to the Motor League

Back to the Motor League
Back to the Motor League

I guess life is just a popularity contest
Success is just the ability to perform within a framework of obedience
Just ask the candy-coated Joy-Cam rock-bands
Selling shoes for venture-capitalists
Silencing competing messages
Rounding off the jagged edges

See also:
JustSomeLyrics
9
9.97
Fight Paris Complete Heat Lyrics
Lisa Ekdahl Vill Ha Dig Kvar Lyrics