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Underage tail and underage praise

so shamefully desperate to validate

and even vindicate your assailed name

The blind leading the swine

and that's just fine

I understand it's a race against time

You're not getting any younger, or smarter, or better

possibly now, but probably never

It chews you up but you can't let go

the whole thing's riding on this next show

So when that backstage Betty finally wants to get sweaty

you gotta last long and you gotta be ready

Playing sober to a cold, empty floor

Asking too much, five bucks at the door

Sweating your cut, how much an you get?

Shut the fuck up and open our set

Who am I to judge how many homemade CDs you've gotten rid of?

Who am I to complain when I get to watch you fail again and again?

Who am I to make fun of your scene?

And completely demean your naïve dream

False destiny beckons, you chomp at the bit

You reek of Velveeta and Bud Light and bullshit