So I'll complain for the next eleven years, but remember that sometimes things are great.

You don't own me! You don't own me!

I worked my ass of my entire life to accomplish one dream.
It started happening and everything was bastardized my greed.
I said "pull this shit over and let me out
I swear to fucking God I'm fucking giving up right now"
And now I've got a brand new start, I remember that something are great.

Scream it in apartment halls -
Scream it loud in shopping malls -
Take a ball point pen and paint the inside's of your eyelids with the constant reminder:
You don't own me. You don't own me.

Then I was underground without food or sunlight or encouragement.
Depression set in 'cause I was a product of my environment.
Then the other day, I got in my car.
Pick Glenn Tillbrook up from the hotel, drive him to the bar.
He wore a t-shirt just like me and wasn't on his phone
And for fifteen minutes I had a conversation with a hero.
So I'll complain for the next ten years...
And after that we'll go drink beers until the bar runs out of beers
Prepare for the next twenty-three years.

'Cause if I wasn't a fat kid in high school, I would have never listened to punk rock.
And if I knew how to throw a football, I would have never played any music.
And if never got my heart broken, I would sing "blah blah fucking nothing."
And if you didn't fuck my ex-girlfriend, I would still owe you three-thousand dollars.
And if I never lived in that van I wouldn't have met Chris or Steve or James, Alex or Middagh.
And if I never worked in a basement I would have never moved out of my house.
And if I had a big emo band or dropped out of college, I would have never met you, man.