We are the class of 13, Born in the era of humility
We are the desperate in the decline ,Raised by the Bastards of 1969
My name is no one, The long lost son, Born of the 4th of July
Raised in an era of heroes and cons, That left me for dead or alive
I am a nation, A worker of pride, My debt to the status quo
The scars on my hands, And the means to an end, Is all that I have to show
I swallowed my pride, And I choked on my faith, I've given my heart and my soul
I've broken my fingers, And lied through my teeth
The pillar of damage control
I've been to the edge, And I've thrown the bouquet
Of flowers left over the grave, I sat in the waiting room
Wasting my time, And waiting for judgement day
I praise Liberty, The "Freedom to Obey"
Is the song that strangles me, Don't cross the line.

We are the class of 13, Born in the era of humility
We are the desperate in the decline ,Raised by the Bastards of 1969
My name is no one, The long lost son, Born of the 4th of July
Raised in an era of heroes and cons, That left me for dead or alive
I am a nation, A worker of pride, My debt to the status quo
The scars on my hands, And the means to an end, Is all that I have to show
I swallowed my pride, And I choked on my faith, I've given my heart and my soul
I've broken my fingers, And lied through my teeth
The pillar of damage control
I've been to the edge, And I've thrown the bouquet
Of flowers left over the grave, I sat in the waiting room
Wasting my time, And waiting for judgement day
I praise Liberty, The "Freedom to Obey"
Is the song that strangles me, Don't cross the line.