Jesus of Suburbia

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I'm the son of rage and love The Jesus of suburbia From the bible of none of the above On a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin No one ever died for my sins in hell As far as I can tell At least the ones I got away with And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In a land of make believe That don't believe in me Get my television fix sitting on my crucifix The living room or my private womb While the moms and brads are away To fall in love and fall in debt To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane To keep me insane and doing someone else's cocaine And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In a land of make believe That don't believe in me