We've got one chance to break out And we need it now 'Cause I'm sick and tired of waiting Sick of this fucking apartment
Love me or leave me or rip me apart This is the voice that I was given and if you don't like it Take a long walk off of the shortest pier You can find and I'll be singing it out, I'll be singing
Oh, Mr. Magazine I never wrote one single thing for you Or your so-called music scene You don't mean a thing to me
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Well, pick it up, pick it up, you need it too Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Pick it up, pick it up
When they review the debut What if the critics hate you Don't worry 'cause they might just Catch somebody off their feet
Well, they can love it or leave it or rip it apart We're living what we're singing So I guess that's a step in the right direction Clever composition and the honesty, honesty
Oh, Mr. Magazine I never wrote one single thing for you Or your so-called music scene You both mean shit to me
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Well, pick it up, pick it up, you need it too Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent Go work in retail, spare the suspense Just don't take chances on anything at all Anything at all
So afraid of anything that may not come that easy Too afraid of anything, you may not have seen before So afraid of anything that may not come that easy Too afraid of anything that may not
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Well, pick it up, pick it up, you need it too Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent Go work in retail, spare the suspense Just don't take chances on anything at all Anything at all
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