Your shirts are pressed 

Your words are planned 

Your jeans are ripped 

Your skin is tan 

And like the cancer in your hands 

You've plagued this town with schemes and plans 

It makes me sick that they can't see 

Your own predictive irony 

You're at your peak and that's just fine 

You take your moment; I'll take mine 



I'd like to believe the best of me 

Is something I have yet to see 

Cos working at dead-end jobs and skipping class 

And spending hours on my ass 

Just doesn't sound like any fun to me 



I hate to judge, but I can't stop 

Unless you step off your soapbox 

Cos it's caving in and you can't tell 

You're busy checking out yourself 

Oh, you're so deep; your taste is sheik 

But we both know that talk is cheap 

It matters least the words you shout 

If you don't know what's coming out 



I'd like to believe the best of me 

Is something I have yet to see 

Cos working at dead-end jobs and skipping class 

And spending hours on my ass 

Just doesn't sound like any fun to me 



It's senior year and we're all down 

Of getting out of this old town 

You're staying back, you'd rather stop 

Cos at this moment you're on top 

The years will pass; we'll all come through 

And you'll be right just where we left you 

You'll realize you weren't so cool 

And that we're all so over high school 



I'd like to believe the best of me 

Is something I have yet to see 

Cos working at dead-end jobs and skipping class 

And spending hours on my ass 

Just doesn't sound like any fun to me