Bad Religion

History doesn't make something right
Consensus is not a fact-based exercise
You're tied and bound to this self indulgent enterprise

We call America
A brush with a star, a token of love
A name in the sand, enough is enough
A diet of air, a face on the net
A fish your palm, your television set

Once you convince yourself
The universe falls into place
You've got your ideas
And your posse of friends
You all make up rules
And the fun never ends

But still there's a problem that leaves you gasping for air
You look for some meaning, blank smiles are all that's there
And still water stales a soft summer breeze
You cling to your hopes while your drop to your knees

There's no substance
Once you convince yourself
The universe falls into place
You've got your ideas
And your posse of friends
You all make up rules
And the fun never ends

But still there's a problem that leaves you gasping for air
You look for some meaning, blank smiles are all that's there
And still water stales a soft summer breeze
You cling to your hopes while your drop to your knees
There's no substance

Written by GRAFFIN, GREG
Published by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.