Tear that poster off the wall
It takes up too much space
We ain't no fucking rock band, man
We're a professional

Disgrace - is the word I would use
To describe
The noises we're making
Feedback, wrong key, a lack of dignity
so don't think we don't know we're
Fuckin' losers
Washed up old men
The years we'd play the same four chords
Over and over and once again
Posing as musicans
Justify what we get paid
Time to forfeit
We may be in the light
But we ain't shit
We may not get respect
You think we don't know
We may be riding on a one way ticket down
We're going down
But I got no regrets
They'll come in time
I can't remember having a better time
On the road to pity
We just
Passed integrity
Pull the plug, put us
Out of this aural misery
Giving the new meaning to
Flogging a dead horse... so we
All agree
Please drop us
At the next glue factory
Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know that we ain't shit