You paint A's on the cans
But you still take out the trash
You hate the government
But you still accept cash
You're mommy's little anarchist
With your toy guns
Let's go blow up mailboxes
And have some fun
You're mommy's little anarchist
You call the food fight
An overthrow
Talk real big
With nothing to show
Just don't exist
We don't need no
Anarchists
If anarchy ruled
Daddy wouldn't hold your hand
No more cotton candy
No more Disneyland
Just people taking
Everything you own
By then it's too late
To cry, "There's no place
Like home."