do you really think i care about the fucking new sound running through this town? and all these fools running around.   your reason seems to have fallen to fashion. and when the novelty precedes the passion. yeah, i've got a fuckin' question: what's   this mean to you? you're such a slave to preconceived disease and it's memberships hold nothing for me. just follow rank and   file to a guile so meaningless that it's got you afraid to see that we are guilty. within our own confines, we signal our defeat.   i'm not afraid to say...they took the sharpest blade and quietly cut out the part that mattered. and what does this mean to me?   what's this mean to me? in all this time you think we'd leave these novelties far behind. but all i see around are the faces    worn, these acts that only bring us down. i am guilty, as i fail to sound. what i've tried so hard to place. i'm not afraid to say   i care.