One radio station talking songs of great harmony
The other one talks too much shit
One D.J.'s personal and the other's quite versatile
But to me it's all gibberish
As I'm lying on the ground cold, stoned and hollow
Slum to a curb
With all the infected needles from dishonest people
They take life and don't give a shit

They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, we're broke, but we're free
Ain't that you and me?
They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, we're broke, but we're free
Whoa, whoa

Well I've got friends, they go sick to bed
Grown men still living with their mothers
Yeah, they bitch and they whine to me
They tell me it ain't right to be thirty and have so many bills

They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, but they live free
That's not me
They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, but they live free
Whoa

La-ti-da
La-ti-da

Is it love that brings us closer to who we are?
Or is it love that makes us run away?
Gotta get away, oh
Or is it love that brings us hope?

One radio station talking songs of great harmony
The other one's still talking shit
The one D.J.'s personal and the other's still versatile
But to me it's all gibberish

They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, we're broke, but we're free
Ain't that you and me?
They cry, la da tida da tida
Yeah, we're broke, but we're free
Whoa, whoa
La-ti-da
Whoa, whoa, whoa
La-ti-da
Whoa, whoa
La-ti-da
La-ti-da
La-ti-da
La-ti-da
La-ti-da