"Does Your Face Hurt? No? 'Cause It's Killing Me!!!" lyrics

Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me
Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me
Placement of the piercings. You're killing me
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight

Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me
Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me
Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me
Right. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight

Someone the other day was telling me about marketing
And how it's so important for a band to sell a t-shirt
I told him that the money goes right back into the same thing
And now we're just a breeding ground for more and more consumers
Sellout, shmellout, it's not about that
But all my problems seem to stem from cash
I got my beliefs and I don't care if they're right
But every time I take 'em out they always seem to get me in a fight

Soon we'll be in the clear
When we get out of here
Where style is function
And our egos make us fight
For now we'll live in fear
We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere
Someone blow it up tonight
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight

Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me
Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me
Placement of the piercings. You're killing me
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight

Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me
Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me
Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight

Williamsburg has got the lights turned low
And a moron with a laptop is calling this poetry
A singer with a thrift amp - "Vintage Circuitry"
On the cover of Bop or Seventeen:
"I'm so lonely, life is empty, where's my coke and fucking money?"
Tonight at the bar I got a good look at the enemy:
"I'm too fucking cool, someone else can write the songs for me."

Soon we'll be in the clear
When we get out of here
Where style is function
And our egos make us fight
For now we'll live in fear
We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere
Someone blow it up tonight
Please blow it up tonight

Now we're cloning sheep
Writing garbage in their diaries
Reading their AP and watching Fuse TV

Kill it, c'est la vie
Fashion show equals your scene
Bomb the industry, yeah
Then run away or watch the blast
I'm getting out so kiss my ass
I'm going nowhere, nowhere fast
I'm going nowhere, nowhere, nowhere