Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey Stoopid.

Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey Stoopid.

Chained In A Cell, Got My Own Private Hell. Preacher Crucifies Me, Warden Wants To Fry Me.

I'm Eighteen, And I Don't Know What I Want.

Militant Mothers Hiding In The Basement Using Pots And Pans As Their Shields And Their Helmets.

It Doesn't Matter How Many Drugs I Take, I'm Not Fulfilled. This Isn't Satisfying. There's A Spiritual Hunger Going On. Everybody Feels It. If You Don't Feel It Now, You Will. Trust Me. You Will... Drinking Beer Is Easy. Trashing Your Hotel Room Is Easy. But Being A Christian, That's A Tough Call. That's The Real Rebellion.