Pantera The Great Southern Trendkill

It's wearing on my mind, I'm speaking all my doubts aloud
You rob a dead mans grave, then flaunt it like you did create
If I hit bottom and everythings gone
In the great Mississippi, please drown me and run
It's digging time again, you're nurturing the weakest trend
Those with the heart and the brain to get past this
Can spot a pathetic without even asking
Fuck your magazine, and fuck the long dead plastic scene
Pierce a new hole, if Hell was in
you'd give your soul
(Chorus)