[EMO]
this is old i guess, but i just saw it till now, it's so funny
VIDEO LINK:
www.smithappens.com/video_emovideo.php
I must Be Emo Lyrics:
Dear Diary, Mood: apathetic
My life is spiralling downward. I couldn’t get enough money to go to the Blood Red Romance and Suffocate Me Dry concert. It sucks because they play some of my favourite songs, like Stab my Heart Because I Love You, Rip Apart my Skull, and of course, Stabby Rip Stab Stab. And it doesn’t help that I couldn’t get my hair to do that flippy thing, either. Like that guy from that band can do. Some days, you know?
I’m an Emo kid, non-conforming as can be. You’d be non-conforming, too, if you looked just like me. I have paint on my nails and make-up on my face. I’m almost Emo enough to start shaving my legs. ‘Cause I feel real deep when I’m dressing in drag. I call it freedom of expression; most just call me a fag. ‘Cause our dudes look like chicks, and our chicks look like dykes. Because Emo is one step below transvestite. Stop my breathing and slit my throat, I must be Emo. I don’t just around when I go to shows. I must be Emo. I’m dark and sensitive with low self esteem. The way I dress makes every day like Halloween. I have no real problems, but I like to make believe. I stole my sister’s mascara, now I’m grounded for a week. Sulking and writing poetry are my hobbies. I can’t get through a Hawthorne Heights album without sobbing. Girls keep breaking up with me, it’s never any fun. They say they already have a pussy, they don’t need another one.
Stop my breathing and slit my throat, I must be Emo. I don’t just around when I go to shows, I must be Emo. Dye in my hair and polish on my toes, I must be Emo. I play guitar and write suicide notes. I must be Emo.
My life is such a black abyss. You know, it’s so dark. Suffocating me. Grabbing a hold of me and tightening its grip. Tighter than a pair of my little sister’s jeans, which look great on me by the way.
When I get depressed I cut my wrists in every direction, hearing songs about getting dumped give me an erection. I write in a live journal and wear thick rimmed glasses. I tell my friends I bleed black, and cry during classes. I’m just a bad, cheap, imitation of Goth. You can catch me reading Catcher in the Rye and jacking off. I wear skin tight clothes while hating my life. If I said I liked girls, I’d only be half right. I look like I’m dead and dress like a homo. I must be Emo. Screw X-BOX, I play old school Nintendo. I must be Emo. I like to whine and hit my parentals. I must be Emo. Me and my friends all look like clones. I must be Emo.
My parents don’t get me. You know, they think I’m gay. Just because they saw me kiss a guy. Well, a couple guys. But, I mean, it’s the 2000s. Can’t two or four dudes make out with each other without being gay? I mean, chicks, dig that kind of thin anyway. I don’t know, diary. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who gets me. You’re my best friend.
I feel like tacos.
VIDEO LINK:
www.smithappens.com/video_emovideo.php
I must Be Emo Lyrics:
Dear Diary, Mood: apathetic
My life is spiralling downward. I couldn’t get enough money to go to the Blood Red Romance and Suffocate Me Dry concert. It sucks because they play some of my favourite songs, like Stab my Heart Because I Love You, Rip Apart my Skull, and of course, Stabby Rip Stab Stab. And it doesn’t help that I couldn’t get my hair to do that flippy thing, either. Like that guy from that band can do. Some days, you know?
I’m an Emo kid, non-conforming as can be. You’d be non-conforming, too, if you looked just like me. I have paint on my nails and make-up on my face. I’m almost Emo enough to start shaving my legs. ‘Cause I feel real deep when I’m dressing in drag. I call it freedom of expression; most just call me a fag. ‘Cause our dudes look like chicks, and our chicks look like dykes. Because Emo is one step below transvestite. Stop my breathing and slit my throat, I must be Emo. I don’t just around when I go to shows. I must be Emo. I’m dark and sensitive with low self esteem. The way I dress makes every day like Halloween. I have no real problems, but I like to make believe. I stole my sister’s mascara, now I’m grounded for a week. Sulking and writing poetry are my hobbies. I can’t get through a Hawthorne Heights album without sobbing. Girls keep breaking up with me, it’s never any fun. They say they already have a pussy, they don’t need another one.
Stop my breathing and slit my throat, I must be Emo. I don’t just around when I go to shows, I must be Emo. Dye in my hair and polish on my toes, I must be Emo. I play guitar and write suicide notes. I must be Emo.
My life is such a black abyss. You know, it’s so dark. Suffocating me. Grabbing a hold of me and tightening its grip. Tighter than a pair of my little sister’s jeans, which look great on me by the way.
When I get depressed I cut my wrists in every direction, hearing songs about getting dumped give me an erection. I write in a live journal and wear thick rimmed glasses. I tell my friends I bleed black, and cry during classes. I’m just a bad, cheap, imitation of Goth. You can catch me reading Catcher in the Rye and jacking off. I wear skin tight clothes while hating my life. If I said I liked girls, I’d only be half right. I look like I’m dead and dress like a homo. I must be Emo. Screw X-BOX, I play old school Nintendo. I must be Emo. I like to whine and hit my parentals. I must be Emo. Me and my friends all look like clones. I must be Emo.
My parents don’t get me. You know, they think I’m gay. Just because they saw me kiss a guy. Well, a couple guys. But, I mean, it’s the 2000s. Can’t two or four dudes make out with each other without being gay? I mean, chicks, dig that kind of thin anyway. I don’t know, diary. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who gets me. You’re my best friend.
I feel like tacos.