Well there’s a world full of empty heartsnLost in this “life imitates pop art” culture,nLost, just because it’s all they know,nAnd it can be pretty hard,nWhen you were born in the basket of shopping cart,nTo ever figure out that you’re not alone…nAnd that’s why the kids keep singing songs,nAnd that’s why we're breaking all the barriers that keep us apart,nAnd for the shit talkers who “move on,”nWell, they may be gone but there’s always us,nAnd the war we wage on settled dust...nnWell we’re fed up with ideas like what we want,nIs always held above our heads, out of reach,nAnd we’ve found we can create things,nThat are tangible, if it’s a band, or a new world,nThese things they aren’t so far,nAnd in learning how to make everything we do accessible,nAnd reach those punks who’ve given up,nAnd say that they are through with it,nWell, if they knew these kids, well that’d make all the difference.nAnd the kids, you know we know better,nThan to have our paths blocked by abstractions,nWe’ll break the whole world down into fractions,nAnd keep them small.nnAnd we know one day we’ll look back to a time,nWhen possessions were regarded as a measure of status,nAnd status was a qualifier,nAnd that may be now but we’re breaking it down…nAnd we know one day we’ll look back unto a time when,nWe couldn’t even figure how to talk to each other,nAnd we know it's complicated…nBut we’re working it out…