| I used to be a stereotype
|
| Half alive with half open eyes
|
| With a one track mind
|
| And a flawed design
|
| Feeling like I was lost
|
| At sea at only the age of 19
|
| Floating around in alcohol and apathy
|
| Taking in too much caffeine and nicotine
|
| If we make it outta here alive
|
| Just say you won’t look back to see
|
| Just who we left behind (there might not be a next time)
|
| With all the ups and downs and turn arounds (might not be a next time)
|
| To the breaking up to breaking down (might not be a next time)
|
| Yeah we were the ones to say (there might not be a next time)
|
| I used to be a stereotype
|
| Someone you’d never recognize
|
| With fingers so yellow
|
| That they matched the yellow skies
|
| And there was a few things I memorized
|
| From all those blurry times
|
| Like bottles clinking under blinking signs
|
| And a few last words from long lost friends of mine
|
| If we make it out of here alive
|
| Just say you won’t look back to see
|
| Just who we left behind (there might not be a next time)
|
| With all the ups and downs and turn arounds (might not be a next time)
|
| To the breaking up to breaking down (might not be a next time)
|
| Yeah we were the ones to say (there might not be a next time)
|
| And if we make it outta here alive (if we make outta here alive)
|
| Just say you won’t look back to see
|
| Just who we left behind
|
| Just who we left behind
|
| After all the fuck ups and fallouts (there might not be a next time)
|
| With all the ups and downs and turn arounds (might not be a next time)
|
| Through all the breaking up to breaking down (there might not be a next time)
|
| Yeah we were the ones to say (there might not be a next time)
|
| There might not be a next time (might not be a next time)
|
| Words to live by
|
| we’re all doing just fine |