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
Pick it up, pick it up, and 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 we
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
Pick it up, pick it up, and you need it too
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up, and you need it too
Pick it up, pick it up, what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
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