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Jesus Of Suburbia

I'm the son of rage and love,
The Jesus of suburbia,
From the bible of "none of the above",
On a steady diet of soda pop and ritalin,
No one ever died for my sins in hell,
As far as I can tell,
At least the ones I got away with

But there's nothing wrong with me,
This is how I'm supposed to be,
In a land of make believe, 
That don't believe in me

Get my television fix,
Sitting on my crucifix,
The living room in my private womb,
While the Mom's and Brad's are away,
To fall in love and fall in debt,
To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane,
To keep me insane and doing someone else's cocaine