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,
 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