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Well, the lyrics are entirely too stupid to trouble you with, but it’s a doozy, I wrote it last night while sitting and watching an emo band play at one of my old coffeeshops. wreched, wreched experience. I think I successfully gathered all the cliches I’ve seen: tortured love, being a teen in love, love, growing up and falling in love, being sensitive and lovable, thinking you’re punk rock while being neither punk nor rock, holding hands, crying, sweaters and black rimmed glasses, getting beaten up by jocks, New Jersey, etc. all the stuff that makes my blood righteously boil.

“It’s punk rock – for whiners.”

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