Tekstovi: Bomb The Music Industry!. Scrambles. $2,400,000.

I know what it looks like,
the ship?s not capsizing.
The driver?s just drunk
or asleep at the wheel.
The map is illegible,
we spilled beers all over it.
We?re all piss poor heroes,
we?re aching to drown in
a sea of bad metaphors:
trite, overused.
Well, I?m sorry I guess talking
just gets me confused.
Dang dang.

Dang dang.

And as a result,
conversations don?t start,
they sputter and stammer.
They spiral like shit
trying to go down the drain
but keeps spinning ?cause forces
are making it stay and I
don?t wanna talk ?cause you
don?t understand.
This wasn?t for anyone,
I just wanted something that
wasn?t prepackaged, and
that wasn?t preplanned
and now my only plan that is
damn sure to happen
Is slowly decaying on
a shelf filled with millionaires
saving the future in
a sweet fucking press release,
gloating on pedestals.
You can?t make a change
unless you?re there bragging,
unless you?re a dick about
something that?s pure to you.
always gets fucked. hey, hey

?Google my name, ?cause kid,
I?ve got credentials.
My pop?s a big shit and I
can get you free long distance.
My co-op is awesome,
my fixed gear?s ridiculous.
Stop smiling, and stop frowning,
I always thought you?d be different.?

And there?s been talk of leaving
for good, but how to where
and what happens when they show up there with friends?
show up there with friends
Can you afford to leave again?
afford to leave again

there?s been talk of leaving
for good, but how to where
and what happens when they show up there with friends?
they show up there with friends
Can you afford to leave again?
afford to leave again