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Behold the youth, come down the pipe All worked up, all spent up, all faces turned up Overdone I never met a traitor I didn't like Never criticized a turncoat written off in spite Caught up on robbing Peter to pay Paul Obsessively stabbing Achilles to kill it all Jump on board and feel what I've confessed The small bus is leaving and will never be blessed Pissed up the same flagpole once too many times Blood on my shoes makes light of death and we mock the crime Behold the youth. Sad again Hair all fucked, with black eyes but untouched Behold my own part. Unaware of where we start But you've given up on giving back, and frankly I miss your heart But I could care less, I behold their resources They get so far, and cause so much stress Behold our turncoat revolution that's doomed Step one, a step undone Behold our lifelong manifesto of failure assumed From Letras Mania