| With knapsacks and pre bit-rate. |
| Through lonely streets that we would skate.
|
| We’re armed with only your mix tapes. |
| I know you said it yourself.
|
| But that was way back in the day, before anyone got paid. |
| You hung on every
|
| word I said. |
| I know you said it yourself.
|
| So won’t you say it to my face. |
| The lies you made yourself believe and everyday
|
| we slowly see. |
| It’s not me, It’s not me.
|
| You know we’d rock this stage for free because it’s where we want to be.
|
| We’re making music, it’s straight lovely. |
| I know you said it yourself.
|
| But now every show’s routine. |
| The verse, chorus, it’s obscene. |
| We’re moving
|
| t-shirts like disease. |
| I know you said it yourself.
|
| So won’t you say it to my face. |
| The lies you made yourself believe and everyday
|
| we slowly see. |
| It’s not me, It’s not me!
|
| The streetlights go on forever and ever and our friendship has been torn and
|
| severed. |
| I never thought it could and I never thought it would.
|
| So won’t you say it to my face. |
| The lies you made yourself believe and everyday
|
| we slowly see. |
| It’s not me, It’s not me.
|
| So stumble home and stagger through the closing doors of a wasted youth.
|
| It’s plain to see. |
| It’s not me. |