Intro: G C G Em 

G 
(It was a hot June day, and my ass was sticking to the seat of my girlfriend's car.) 
C 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!. 
G 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby 
C 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!. 
G 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby 
C 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!. 
G 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby 
C 
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!. 
G 
And when you stuff yourself into a suit and tie 
C 
do you think the judge can see through the sweat as he gives you your fine 
G 
for a post-panic attack speeding ticket on a 
C 
90 degree day in New York. 
G 
And yeah, you're gonna drive home for three hours to work in a 
C 
basement for tribute bands making posters 
G 
to pay about a fifth of that price. 
C 
It's just Staten Island traffic in the summer. 
Oh! 
Em             C 
   That orange ball. (HEY HEY HEY) 
     Em                                C 
That burning orb of fire in the sky is gonna explode and we're all gonna die! 
G                                                     D                               B 
Except for the foolish few who will "think ahead" and drive their SUV's to their bomb shelters 
Em                    C                  Em                            C 
Complain about air conditioning because "baby, we ain't got no more electricity." 
C 
They wanna rise when it's done, be a leader with a gun. 
A 
Be a leader of what? Like a hundred and one? 
    Em                                                   C 
Well, fuck it, I'm gonna hang out on the rooftop when it comes. 
D                      C 
'Cause when it's dark, it'll be night time, baby. 
    G                     C 
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess. 
    D                     C 
The only stores that are open, baby. 
     G 
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream. 
          D                         Em 
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk 
          G                        Em 
and we'll talk talk talk about how much much much 
F                    Am 
how much fun we had, yeah, when 
G 
we were fuckin' the world, oh we're fucking the world, yeah! 
            G                                   C 
Through the glares on our windshields, we can't see each others eyes, 
       G                                      C 
just McDonalds cups and wrappers that they're throwing at full speed. 
    G                                    C 
And yes, I long for a shadow. And yes, I always appreciate the irony 
         G                                            C 
that the only cool comfort that allows us to see is a goddamn billboard. Sing it with me. 
G 
A BILL BOARD (BILLBOARD) IS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING US FROM 
C 
BLIND-LY CRASH-ING. 
G 
A BILL BOARD (BILLBOARD) IS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING US FROM 
Em 
BLIND-LY CRASH-ING. 
          G 
And we'll never see a city not marred by advertisements, 
          C 
and we'll NEVER have a future not working for those companies, 
         G 
and it's sure as shit not getting better 
      Am 
so we might as well accept it now, oh. 
Em                      C 
And that really doesn't cheapen anything 
         Em                         C 
because, baby, we're all born to be businessmen. 
G 
Every Fugazi record has a catalog number and a price tag 
D                                                     B 
and every independent label is selling you another goddamn product. 
Em                              C 
But, NO, WE'RE not slaves to the music. 
       Em                          C 
Oh no, WE'RE not slaves to the company, baby. 
C 
We do what we're born and raised to do 
             A 
and when youre creating something, you're producing something 
         D                                    C 
and the act of producing is the creation of a product. 
D                      C 
'Cause when it's dark, it'll be night time, baby. 
    G                     C 
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess. 
    D                     C 
The only stores that are open, baby. 
     G 
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream. 
          D                         Em 
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk 
          G                        Em 
and we'll talk talk talk about how much much much 
F                    Am 
how much fun we had, yeah, when 
G 
we were fuckin' the world, oh we're fucking the world, yeah! 
              Em                F 
Yeah, we were fu fu cking cking the the world world. 
         C 
When the sun drops, you ain't gonna be hungover the next day. 
         G 
When the comet hits, you ain't gonna have no bills to pay. 
         Bb 
When the bomb hits, it's gonna be a four day weekend. Hey hey! 
          Am 
When it's all done I'm gonna feel great 
G     Em    G    Am 
...finally. 
           G                            C 
And when I finally got to work today, I ate my Subway sandwich, 
      G                               C 
and I drank my Coca-Cola Classic, and then I ate my Sunchips 
      G                                  C 
and I thought about the weekend when I'd fill up my Ford van 
     G                   C 
with Mobil brand gas and drive to the Clear Channel venue and 
    G                            C 
I'd drink myself a Budweiser and play my Fender guitar 
           G                    C 
through my Fender amplifier and tell the kids with a straight face 
          G                    C                 G                     C 
through a Shure microphone and JBL speakers that corporate rock is for suckers. 
Uhh yeah.