Shouting

All my friends are drunk Living in the future All my friends are punks Who never heard The Clash All my friends are vain But scared of their reflection Aiming for the wall Never feel the crash It's ours to win We'll keep throwing punches 'til the walls cave in Thieves in the temple Eve and the apple Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit Head full of judges Mouth full of luggage We whisper, baby, we should be shouting Whoa-oh-oh, shouting Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-whoa-oh All my friends are straight But play at being crooked All my friends are rich But always strapped for cash All my friends are sad But wanna live forever Back against the wall Face against the glass It's ours to win We'll keep throwing punches 'til the walls cave in Thieves in the temple Eve and the apple Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit Head full of luggage and A mouth full of judges We whisper, baby, we should be shouting Whoa-oh-oh, shouting Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-whoa-oh Whoa-oh-oh, shouting Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-whoa-oh Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit Everybody's twisted, baby, trying to fit