American Idiot (OLD TEASTAMENT), chapter 1
He walked the lonely streets of his country he hated and so badly wanted to tell someone he did...but no one would ever, could ever listen.
He kicked a can that was on the ground awhile, then got bored and moved on.
That was his basic life...he had to keep moving on.
Not watching where he was going, he tripped over a bench, falling face first.
He lay on the ground a moment, then rolled over on his back. He stared up at the extremely dark sky. God it was gloomy. It seemed to have been cloudy a long time, because he cudn't remember the last sunny day he saw...or maybe that was just memory loss from the drugs.
Finally he got up and walked to...well, he wasn't really sure where he was walking.
As far as he was concerned, he didn't know and didn't care.
He had no friends, no family...his friends left him and his family turned on him as well, though he wasn't sure why. This was when he started using the drugs.
He had no house, no bed...the world was his only idea of a matress. He slept wherever he pleased and just kept walking about. As I said earlier, "Moving on".
Every nite it was hard to sleep, though. Not just because he had no blankets, pillows, etc., but because every nite when he listened closely he could hear his ears ringing with the sound of histeria.
He didn't like that noise very much.
He walked on and found a drugstore that was open.
He walked inside and made his way to the magazines. Nowadays he didn't like magazines so much...they were covered with complaining celebritys.
He rolled his eyes and said to himself,"Our nation sux. It's completely controlled by the media."
He left the drugstore and continued walking. Walking, walking...walking into a deep sense of no where. Alone...not that it bothered him, he needed to be alone. He was tired and needed a ciggerette.
He reached in his coat pocket for his ciggerettes. Then he felt his pant pocket 'til he found a lighter. He lit his ciggerette and walked on as he smoked it.
Feeling the smoke burn in his nose he felt better. The only problem was it ended so quickly. As he finished his ciggerette, he came to a stop sign in the road.
He stared at it a moment, wishing that this simple stop sign cud stop more than just cars.
He sighed and stared down at his shoes. When he turned his head back up,
he read the sign once more.Using his finger nail, he scratched some words on the sign beneath the word "STOP".
Now the sign read: STOP subliminal minds.
He looked at it, content with the words he etched. He smiled to himself as he walked on.
To put some noise into the the empty street and his mind, he began humming Elvis Presley's "Burnin' Love."
He was to a point now where, even with his ears ringing, he could fall asleep quickly.
He made his way to another bench. There was no one out, everyone was asleep in their homes.
Knowing that no one cud bother him, he closed his eyes.
And this boy, the one made from your father's rage and your mother's love, the boy known as the "AMERICAN IDIOT", drifted into a good night's rest.
He kicked a can that was on the ground awhile, then got bored and moved on.
That was his basic life...he had to keep moving on.
Not watching where he was going, he tripped over a bench, falling face first.
He lay on the ground a moment, then rolled over on his back. He stared up at the extremely dark sky. God it was gloomy. It seemed to have been cloudy a long time, because he cudn't remember the last sunny day he saw...or maybe that was just memory loss from the drugs.
Finally he got up and walked to...well, he wasn't really sure where he was walking.
As far as he was concerned, he didn't know and didn't care.
He had no friends, no family...his friends left him and his family turned on him as well, though he wasn't sure why. This was when he started using the drugs.
He had no house, no bed...the world was his only idea of a matress. He slept wherever he pleased and just kept walking about. As I said earlier, "Moving on".
Every nite it was hard to sleep, though. Not just because he had no blankets, pillows, etc., but because every nite when he listened closely he could hear his ears ringing with the sound of histeria.
He didn't like that noise very much.
He walked on and found a drugstore that was open.
He walked inside and made his way to the magazines. Nowadays he didn't like magazines so much...they were covered with complaining celebritys.
He rolled his eyes and said to himself,"Our nation sux. It's completely controlled by the media."
He left the drugstore and continued walking. Walking, walking...walking into a deep sense of no where. Alone...not that it bothered him, he needed to be alone. He was tired and needed a ciggerette.
He reached in his coat pocket for his ciggerettes. Then he felt his pant pocket 'til he found a lighter. He lit his ciggerette and walked on as he smoked it.
Feeling the smoke burn in his nose he felt better. The only problem was it ended so quickly. As he finished his ciggerette, he came to a stop sign in the road.
He stared at it a moment, wishing that this simple stop sign cud stop more than just cars.
He sighed and stared down at his shoes. When he turned his head back up,
he read the sign once more.Using his finger nail, he scratched some words on the sign beneath the word "STOP".
Now the sign read: STOP subliminal minds.
He looked at it, content with the words he etched. He smiled to himself as he walked on.
To put some noise into the the empty street and his mind, he began humming Elvis Presley's "Burnin' Love."
He was to a point now where, even with his ears ringing, he could fall asleep quickly.
He made his way to another bench. There was no one out, everyone was asleep in their homes.
Knowing that no one cud bother him, he closed his eyes.
And this boy, the one made from your father's rage and your mother's love, the boy known as the "AMERICAN IDIOT", drifted into a good night's rest.
