If sticks and stones were healthy bones,
We'd be right back in 2177,
But it's 2220 and our skeletons are hollow
From the mutagenic smoke.
And maybe if I found some job underground
I'd feel less fucking doomed.
With a locker full of ammo and a stake in the racket
And a well-provisioned panic room.

Atomic God,
Please just pity me.
I wasn't born in the arms of the Church of the Holy Nuke.
Brothers past,
Please remember me.
We're gonna die like dogs in the gutters of the city, man
And that's the gospel truth.

And while we're crawling up the arse
Of the bunker-dwelling class
Just remember not to speak about the time we ate Gavin
'Cause the hypocrites here
Could find a conscience at the drop of a hat.
And we could tag a dozen relix
Fight a hundred mutant hordes
And do a thousand fucking missions
Past the northern fucking wall.
At the end of the day we'll still be dying on the surface
While they're living it up underground, ground, ground.

Atomic God,
Grant me clemency.
I wasn't born in the shadow of the Church of the Holy Nuke.
Sisters past,
Please remember me.
We're gonna die like dogs in the guts of the city, man
And that's the goddamn truth.

(If sticks and stones
Were healthy bones
We'd be right back in 77.
We'd be right back, right back in, ah-)

All of this
Is way too much for me.
I wasn't born in the arms of the Church of the Holy Nuke.
So Atomic God,
Come and bite me.
I'm gonna die like a dog in the guts of the city, man
And that's the fuckin' truth.