Text: This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb. Front Seat Solidarity. A Hundred Dollars.

What is it you want me to say?
is it that i lost a good thing?
yeah, i know i shoulda said it long ago.
all i could manage to think up was it wasn't my fault.
when i walk downtown you know i gotta walk with my head held high,
because those stupid southern yuppies they don't like
to see a punk rock kid with his head held high.
they like the way that their money feels.
they got bank accounts and boob jobs and a fast set of wheels.
they fear a smile on the young, they fear the actions of the young.
the sun is shining, it's not raining today.
it's the first day in weeks it hasn't been so grey.
if i had a dollar for every day
i'd say it's gonna be a brand new day,
well i'd have a hundred dollars.