Tear that poster off the wall
It takes up too much space
We ain't no fucking rock band, man
We're a professional
Disgrace, is the word I would use
To describe the noises we're making
Feedback, wrong key, a lack of dignity
So don't think we don't know we're fuckin' losers
Washed up old men
The years we'd play the same four chords
Over and over and once again
Posing as musicians
Justify what we get paid
Time to forfeit
We may be in the light
But we ain't shit
We may not get respect
You think we don't know we may be riding on a one way ticket down
We're going down
But I got no regrets
They'll come in time
I can't remember having a better time

On the road to pity
We just passed integrity
Pull the plug
Put us out of this aural misery
Giving a new meaning to
Flogging a dead horse
So we all agree
Please drop us at the next glue factory
Yeah, yeah, yeah
We know that we ain't shit