You’re not really a rebel, are you?
With your skull tattoos and lost soul vibe.
You sit on a bike that you can’t ride
You smoke pot all the time so you can’t drive.
You walk with a swagger but have no sway
Your ridiculous stories give you away
Your ‘live in the moment’ constant retort
Although you really do nothing of the sort.
You like heavy-metal fine.. ok
You over insist that you’re not ‘gay’
You’re mean though
I’ll give you that.
Shut me out of life
Make me feel like a twat.
You’re a rebel without a reason
I committed no crime or treason.
I wanted you and that was all
Your worst crime was to pretend to fall
You’re full of crap and rather crass
You’re really not a good.. bad-ass.