Your shirts are pressed 

Your words are planned 

Your jeans are ripped 

Your skin is tan 

And like the cancer in your hands 

You plague 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 and I'll take mine 


I would like to believe the best of me is something I have yet to see 

Because 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 cant stop 

Unless you step off your soap box 

Because it's caving in, and you cant tell 

You're busy checking out yourself 

Oh you're SO deep, your taste is chic 

But we both know that talk is cheap. 

It matters least the words you shout if you don't know what's coming out 


Its senior year and were all down with getting out of this old town 

But your staying back you'd rather stop because at this moment you're on top 

But years will pass, we'll all come through 

And you'll be right just where we left you 

And we'll realize you weren't so cool, and that were all so over high school