Screeching Weasel
Under The Bus
Under the bus again
And in spite of it all, I can't say that I'm really surprised
Hung out to dry again
But like always, I'll manage to land on my feet one more time

And I don't know whether to cry or to laugh
'Cause it separates all of the wheat from the chaff
And the boys from the men, if you just do the math
I'm left under the bus

[Guitar solo]

And the tire tracks left on the back of my head
Will fade soon enough, but I won't soon forget
All the weak-minded, cowardly, fair-weather friends
Who threw me under the bus

There goes my former band
Slinking off, leaving four piss-colored stains on the rug
Label and management
Bringing up the rear, how fitting
You just can't make this stuff up

When the heat is off, and they come sniffing around
I'll say thanks but no thanks and then blow the man down
'Cause I might be a jerk, but at least I'm no clown
And I'm here by myself
Under the bus
Under the bus
Under the bus
Under the bus