A pack of wet matches, wasn't feeling well
On a west end bus to Klondike Hotel
I never could have guessed, I'd be in this mess
Maybe my old man really did know best
When he told me punk rock kids like me
All end up as casualties
Realities a ride, SNFU
You don't find punk, it finds you
But I was questioning my roots
I was questioning the truth
I was questioning my youth
And I was questioning the proof
And now I'm questioning you
And now I'm questioning you
Molly answered the door, looking like hell
Something wasn't right, I could just tell
Sammy held the lighter under the foil
She said, "Scotty, just stay" but my blood was boilin'
She knew I wasn't happy, just not my scene
I wished so bad that she could get clean
I needed someone, someone to understand
She was too fucked up, made me feel even worse man
But I was questioning my roots
I was questioning the truth
I was questioning my youth
And I was questioning the proof
And now I'm questioning you
Questioning you
I'd walk a million miles
To meet you at your door
I'd walk a million miles
My shoes are too ripped and torn
And I was questioning my roots
I was questioning the truth
I was questioning my youth
And I was questioning the proof
And now I'm questioning you
(And now I'm questioning you)
You
(And now I'm questioning you)
