| Said, «It's the end of days»
|
| And we’re just hoping for the beach front property
|
| Knowing indecision daring some asshole to take a swing
|
| Got eight hundred dollars to my name
|
| Not sure what it means
|
| Trying to take these bastards for a quarter of a million
|
| Despite your Mom’s protesting
|
| If every city is the same
|
| Doom and gloom under a different name
|
| Maybe we should find our home in one
|
| I hate the rhythm of our lives these days
|
| Stare into a dead space, shouting at my phone
|
| Ducking in my seat 'cause someone brought a bag into the movie theater
|
| Everyone shrugs at the same time
|
| Yeah, yeah, we know you’re sick and sad the 30 somethings in a bar
|
| Play us some nostalgia songs
|
| 'Cause no one really wants to hear about you anymore, I know
|
| If every city is the same
|
| Doom and gloom under a different name
|
| Maybe we should find our home in one
|
| We argue and assign the blame
|
| Not like any of us feel the shame
|
| Count on one hand all the good we’ve done
|
| Said, «It's the end of days»
|
| And you’re still pissing in the wind
|
| Don’t believe in God
|
| Figure he’d be a better planner than this
|
| I’m tired anyway
|
| Why the Hell would I care?
|
| I’m tired anyway
|
| If every city is the same
|
| Doom and gloom under a different name
|
| Maybe we should find our home in one
|
| We argue and assign the blame
|
| Not like any of us feel the shame
|
| Count on one hand all the good we’ve done
|
| I’m tired anyway
|
| Why the Hell would I care?
|
| I’m tired anyway |