Where are you now? Who do you go to for a shoulder to cry on? I hope that some day you might turn around and come back home When will I see your face again? No matter how far apart we become you know that I'll still hear your song This is the day. This

Kids in love We were kids in love Kids in love And then we grew up But won't you hold me close tonight Like we're kids in love? This is our last goodbye Don't come and find me So hard to see you cry

Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms The maids come around too much Parents ain't around enough Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar Too many white lies and white lines Super rich kids with

Raise up your cup, come on drink it up Keep the party sparking like the moon stuck We ain't going nowhere Naw we just crazy kids and we ain't got a care. Here's to riding on the high life, A little puff and a hell yeah high five The memories, the laughs,

We were Jesus save me, blue jean baby Born in the USA Trailer park truck stop, faded little map dots New York to LA We were teenage dreamin’, front seat leanin’ Baby, come give me a kiss Put me on the cover of the Rolling Stone Uptown down home American

Standing in the shadows at the end of my bed We've got heads on sticks You've got ventriloquists The rats and children follow me out of town I slip away I slipped on a little white lie Come on kids

(Welcome to L.A) Where you can see the whole city burning 'Cause the cops got Uzis and the dealers keep serving And your kids ain't learning shit, except this Sex power and wealth, fuck everything else Trying to survive, Los Angeles Times Trying to

Why do you wanna go turn back time? Psychotic kids, they don't know what they want Wasted on the young Psychotic kids, we've got to keep control of them Come and take a ride in my psychotic mind My mum thinks I'm on heroin And my dad just thinks I'm gone

Start again in the month of May Come on and blow the wires away And around and around and around and around Gonna make a record in the month of May But the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight One, two, three, four In the month of May, in

I'm goin' down to the Greyhound Station, gonna get a ticket to ride Gonna find that lady with two or three kids and sit down by her side Ride 'til the sun comes up and down around me 'bout two or three times Smokin' cigarettes in the last seat Tryin' to