Lost the confidence to write a song,   So I found three simple chords   And held them together with my weak voice   On an out of tune guitar   My father gave to me.      And may Elvis turn in his grave   And Les Paul kiss my dirty, calloused fingers   And may the likes of this song never make   One fucking dollar,   leave it for a demo tape   To be played until it's broken,   Then remembered only for what it was.      That we gave them hell   That we gave them hell   That we gave them hell      That we gave them hell   That we gave them hell   That we gave them hell      To my friends and enemies who could have been anything,   Titans and heroes who found sruvival in cause and effect.   Behind counters,   Behind windows,   Striving just   To be people   With bitter ideals of justice.   Do we only need to keep working because it pays rent?   Sleeping under plastic stars glued to ceiling,   Muscles burning alcohol and nicotine   Every morning.      But we gave them hell   But we gave them hell   But we gave them hell      But we gave them hell   But we gave them hell   But we gave them hell      There's a height beyond skyscrapers,   There's a distance beyond the freeway,   More than pictures in a magazine,   More than tragedy in a rock and roll song.   It's more than actions you know are safe to make.   It's more than money could ever buy.       Are we living to work and die in American cities?   And workin to live and die in American cities?   And dying for what we worked!