Four Letter Tattoos And White Flags

so surrender every lie that you have saved up

for the impending and never-ending cutting of every tie

of all the ties that you've lived your whole sheltered life creating

(just live your life until you die)

you don't have to be polite about it... in fact, fuck it: let's shout it

"I've moved out, finally moved on"

I mean we're now pallbearers when grieving friends

national guardsmen and working stiffs

marines at war and marriages

I think it's about time we save ourselves and fade out, fade away

so that the say this and say that's of this small town

will fade out, fade away

you don't have to be polite about it

why should I fake the way I look into your face

to tell you that I've left home

and why do we always fake our way through

with that old familiar taste

I mean the circle has always closed in on itself

whether you were there or not and no one ever lied about that shit

I mean, we can party and all but just not like it's 1999

and I know that I'm a contradiction on two legs

you've seen my ways

and you've read and you've read the ways of the insane

but I think that I'm finally saved