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• Artiste: Bad Religion
• Titre: No Substance
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History doesn't make something right Consensus is not a fact-based exercise You're tied and bound to this selfindulgent enterprise... We call America A brush with a star, a token of love A name in the sand, enough is enough A diet of air, a face on the net A fish your palm, your television set Once you convince yourself The universe falls into place You've got your ideas And your posse of friends You all make up rules And the fun never ends But still there's a problem that leaves you gasping for air You look for some meaning, blank smiles are all that's there And still water stales a soft summer breeze You cling to your hopes while your drop to your knees There's no substance Once you convince yourself The universe falls into place You've got your ideas And your posse of friends You all make up rules And the fun never ends But still there's a problem that leaves you gasping for air You look for some meaning, blank smiles are all that's there And still water stales a soft summer breeze You cling to your hopes while your drop to your knees There's no substance