- Songwriters: Bob Bryar, Frank Iero, Raymond Toro, Gerrard Way, Michael Way
- Also in: The Black Parade Is Dead
They're gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies in the books
To make a citizen out of you
Because they sleep with a gun
And keep an eye on you, son
So they can watch all the things you do
Because the drugs never work
They gonna give you a smirk
'Cause they got methods of keeping you clean
They gonna rip up your heads
Your aspirations to shreds
Another cog in the murder machine
They say that teenagers scare the living **** out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
The boys and girls in the clique
The awful names that they stick
You're never gonna fit in much, kid
But if you're troubled and hurt
What you got under your shirt
We'll make them pay for the things that they did
They say that teenagers scare the living **** out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
Ohh yeah!
They say that teenagers scare the living **** out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
All together now!
Teenagers scare the living **** out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
Teenagers scare the living **** out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
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