Story Behind the Song
It's about life in socio-disfunctional suburbia. Its about selling out. One's self. One's hopes. Always achieving something for 'the man' but never for yourself. We've added just a pinch of attitude to the sauce here.
Lyrics
Mama's got a newborn baby boy, look at those hazel eyes Daddy got another raise today, shavings from his nine to five Like a sidewalk man but saying, "pretty please" To a storefront stranger that gets his news from a magazine And, we sell ourselves looking for a better way Angel, she's a busomed baby, yeah, look at those lovely thighs And, don't it drive you crazy, boy, shaking it as she walks by Like a back-door las that would like you to step inside We ain't got no purpose, baby, but maybe we can improvise And, we sell ourselves looking for a better way Yeah, we sell ourselves and justify And, we tell ourselves that its a chance to survive And, we brace ourselves to face the truth As we brace ourselves to race the moon Yeah, we brace ourselves to race the moon Baby's got a newborn mama, boy, look at those hazel eyes Daddy got his taxes paid today with shavings from his nine to five Like a sideshow man working for a couple of dimes And, a fortune-telling gypsy lady saying, "sorry, but we're out of time" And, we sell ourselves looking for a better way Yeah, we sell ourselves and justify And, we tell ourselves that its a chance to survive And, we brace ourselves to face the truth As we brace ourselves to race the moon Yeah, we brace ourselves to race the moon
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