Green Day: Bullet in a Bible Page #2

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to get here tonight, alright?

This song's called

"Jesus of Suburbia."

I'm the son of rage and love

The Jesus of Suburbia

From the bible of none of the above

On a steady diet of

soda pop and Ritalin

No one ever died for my sins in hell

As far as I can tell

At least the ones I got away with

And there's nothing wrong with me

This is how I'm supposed to be

In a land of EVERYBODY

That don't believe in me

Get my television fix

sitting on my crucifix

The living room or my private womb

While the moms and Brads are away

To fall in love and fall in debt

To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane

To keep me insane

And doing someone else's cocaine

And there's nothing wrong with me

This is how I'm supposed to be

In a land of EVERYBODY

That don't believe in me

Ladies and gentlemen,

Tr Cool.

At the center of the Earth

In the parking lot

Of the 7-11 where I was taught

The motto was just a lie

It says home is where your heart is

But what a shame

Cause everyone's heart

Doesn't beat the same

It's beating out of time

Get those fists

in the air!

City of the dead

At the end of another lost highway

Signs misleading to nowhere

Alright!

City of the damned

Lost children with dirty faces today

No one really seems to care

Get those hands up!

I read the graffiti

In the bathroom stall

Like the holy scriptures of a shopping mall

And so it seemed to confess

It didn't say much

But it only confirmed that

The center of the earth

Is the end of the world

And I could really care less

Get those fists

in the air!

City of the dead

At the end of another lost highway

Signs misleading to nowhere

One more time!

City of the damned

Lost children with dirty faces today

No one really seems to care

--"{(I don't care if you don't-x2)

"--x4

I don't care

Everyone is so full of sh*t

Born and raised by hypocrites

Hearts recycled but never saved

From the cradle to the grave

We are the kids of war and peace

From Anaheim to the middle east

We are the stories and disciples

Of the Jesus of suburbia

Land of make believe

That don't believe in me

Land of make believe

And I don't believe

And I don't care!

I don't care! [x4]

Dearly beloved are you listening?

I can't remember a word,

that you were saying

Are we demented or am I disturbed?

The space that's in between

insane and insecure

Brothers and sisters,

get those hands up in the air!

Oh therapy, can you please

fill the void?

Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed

Nobody's perfect and I stand accused

For lack of a better word,

and that's my best excuse

England!

Ladies and gentlemen,

Mike Dirnt!

To live and not to breathe

Is to die In tragedy

To run, to run away

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