Blow Your Brains Out On Live TV

We’ve got all kinds of problems
With the state of the world
But there’s just one solution
That will get you the girls.

Blow your brains out on live TV.
Four more years yeah right.

Get a song written about you
By a band like Filter.
And you’ll become a staple
At the MT&R

Blow your brains out on live TV.
Blow your brains out do it do it.
Who cares? Not me!
Who cares? Not me!
Who cares? Not me!
Four more years yeah right.



Does Your Face Hurt
Someone send me the words!



Funcoland vs The Electorate

Insurance: blow on it!
Debt: blow on it!
Global warming: blow on it!
Racist asshole: blow on them!

Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

Broken car: blow on it!
Broke guitar: blow on it!
Broken amp: blow on it!
Stupid girlfriend: blow on her!

Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

This is how we solve all the problems in the world.

Middle East: blow on it!
Terrorism: blow on it!
Donald Rumsfeld: blow on him!
George Bush: blow on him!

Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

Unemployment: blow on it!
Alcoholic: blow on it!
Ashlee Simpson: blow on her!
Tuberculosis: blow on it!

Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

This is how we solve all the problems in the world.



(It Ceases To Be Whining) If You're Shitting Blood

Sing the fucking songs you told the world to sing.
Sing it right unless you want to fail.
Listen back and punch the things that we don’t like.
You can’t do it right in just one take.

Because you aren’t good enough.
You were never good enough to sing your own songs oh so perfect.

If you fuck this up, you fuck the record deal
And respect of all our famous friends.
Drift too far and it is inaccessible.
Do it right! We worked as hard as you.

And we didn’t come this far
For you to fuck this up and fuck our whole lives.

So write some songs with fucking hooks
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Let’s start a band.
This is all that you can do.

Cut the cookie. Five sharp points to make a star.
Cut the corners, get the biggest tours.
Traffic violations mean bad credit now.
Twenty triple zeroes in the hole.

And it wouldn’t be so bad.
If we crashed the fucking van and watch our fucking debt go up in flames.

You know, it wouldn’t be so bad.
If we just threw up our hands instead of feeding something
I did not want to create.
Your underground is a mistake.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Let's start a band because we have nothing else to do.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not for a man who runs a fucking focus group.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not for a man who runs a fucking focus group.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not to impress the band you opened up for yesterday.



Ready Set No

I never was a drinker.
Now I’m an alcoholic
Drinking just to fall asleep
And hiding my smiles ‘cause you can probably smell that shit on my teeth.
Drink it down, golden brown my sweet whiskey.
You feel nice on the inside, so nice on the inside.
Nice on the inside, so let’s get hitched.

I never cried at movies.
Now I cry at the Simpsons.
I hide the tears so you can’t see,
And I wipe my eyes and pretend that I’m just falling asleep.
Don’t come around, I’ve already destroyed everything.
I’m not coming outside. I’m not coming outside.
I’ve blown my only chance, so don’t make me do anything.

Because from the moment it was up to us to break the rules and disobey, I’d trade it all in for an easy answer to let me raise my fist and say “No!”

I’m a target audience.
Paranoia setting in.
I can’t have a conversation.
You’re just like the other kids.
I’m well aware that they monitor my thoughts.
And if you count on me for anything, I’m sorry, but you’re totally fucked.
Fucked. You’re fucked. Everybody’s out of luck.
I’m just a kid who wants to get drunk.
It’s nighttime. Look outside.
It’s nighttime. Look outside.
It’s nighttime. Look outside.
Let’s go drink ‘til we can’t feel shit.

From the moment it was up to us to break the rules and disobey, I’d trade it all in for an easy answer to let me raise my fist and say “No!”

I gotta find something that’s wrong with everything.
So now I’m all alone.
Forget solutions, I’ll be at the bar drinking
Forgetting everything I know.

Then when the record stores start falling then it’s up to us to break rules.
Stop sitting in your room watching advertisements and disobey.
Put down the bottle, get a megaphone and shout it to the world:
No way. No way.
No thanks.



Sweet Home Cananada
Someone send me the words!



click a song title for the mp3.
email me if you've got something to say.
thanks to Jeff for awesome music.