You’ve got a funny way of coming clean– or are you just coming apart?

You tuck the to-do lists between the book ends and in the books that look good on the bus

Mistake my wince for a smile while you choke on a bitten tongue

You’re not so funny when you’re mean to me

Your black flags fade to gray– the red-blooded blues

When we grow old to know we died young

Nothing ever lasts

It’s a dystopian, sick world and everything is just falling apart

But don’t it feel like we’re coming together when we load-up the goods and push the shopping carts out?

We’d smoke in your bedroom, where the forced laughter is not contagious

I know that you wish you were sick, but there are so many ways of being more disappointing..

You’re not so funny when you’re mean to me

Your black flags fade to gray, you looked dead in your leather anyway

Suburban Punks and we’re gonna die young

But you’re gagged and you’re bound and you’re city-bound

You died young

Because it feels like there’s something that’s gone

When you ask if there’s something that’s wrong

I feel like there’s something that’s gone