i guess it starts with the sharks, i guess it gets to 
the jets
i guess these bloods they can't stop bleeding
the fighting started friendly enough, now everybody's 
makin love
to guns and tons of biker drugs

we used to fight with our fists, we used to fight over 
chicks
and we kissed at the flicks and people got pissed
and they spit from the balcony
these english majors wanna be some super genius 
novelists
they end up music journalists, chicks ain't that into 
it

we are the troubadours and these are the news reports
here we are in the holy war gettin lost in the liquor 
store
makin love to hardwood floors, now we go into the 4/4

blue
we did the goats head soup into the tattoo you
and the crazy fruity drinks you made, the grey goose 
and the gatorade
the liquid tan and lemonade, made love to the waiting 
game 

and the right brigade, that's the funny thing
it ain't just a money thing it's a question of 
community
the liberty, the exctasy, the love, the drugs, the 
unity
and the busts they look just like the hey kool-aid 
commercial
breakin down the walls and they're tippin over tables 
and it tastes great

i hate these strychnine shakes, looking for a closer
clawin through the record crates, primpin like a poseur
slippin through the subway grates, and you're tryin to 
get underground