What We Worked For

i lost the confidence to write a song so i found three simple chords and held them together with my weak voice on an out-of-tune guitar my father gave to me may elvis turn in his grave and les paul curse my dirty calloused fingers may the likes of this song never make one fucking dollar, leave it for a demo tape to be played until it's broken then remembered only for what it was...that we gave em hell to my friends and enemies who could have been anything titans and heroes who found survival in cause and effect behind counters behind windows striving just to be people with bitter ideals oj justice do we only need to keep working because it pays rent sleeping under plastic stars glued to a ceiling muscles burning alcohol and nicotine every morning...but we gave em hell there's a height beyond skyscrapers there's a distance beyond the freeway more than pictures in a magazine more than tragedy in a rock and roll song it's more than the actions you know it's safe to make it's more than money could ever buy are we working to live and die in american cities, living to work and die in american cities, and dying for what we worked