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
But there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a Land of Make Believe
That don't believe in me
Get my television fix
Sitting on my crucifix
The living in 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
But there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In a Land of Make Believe
That don't believe in me
