20-Something Blues
Even on an island my mind works overtime
You might be a mile away
I still fear you'll hear me say
Whatever it is that might be on my mind
But I don't know
What it is
They're all waiting
Gotta say something
To the audience in my head
Won't leave the show until I'm dead
But I don't get my daily bread from them
They use me up
So I fill my cup
Get mighty drunk
'Til I forget
We even met
We pour wine in the middle of May
Hang out on the Penobscot Bay
It's 33 degrees, by the way
And we'd have jobs but no one can pay
Oh no...
It's very cold
I'm getting old
And I'm on my own
Nobody told me to pay my dues
I'm 28 and still searching for clues
You're a 90s child, you don't sing the blues
No, no...
You're a spoiled brat
We all know that
So cut the crap
There is no map
Maybe an app
So give yourself a freaking break
Decide which pills you're gonna take
YOLO, kid, have your cake and eat it, too
I met Graham, and Graham met Bob
Which heroes are you gonna rob?
All the late greats are sobbing in their graves
The summer sun
Has just begun
We're having fun
He's got a gun
Hey, he's got a gun!
Watch out!
Everyone dies, it all goes to shit
Jesus preached, but this isn't it
Our faith has crumbled bit by bit
We're screwed...
But I'm all right
I'm all right
I'm all right
I'm all right now
'Cause I got a degree
Now Google Maps will lead the way
And you can stress but at the end of the day
You can't put that on your resume
No, no...
You idol Gods
You make the mods
Well, take your rods
And go fuck yourselves
You might be a mile away
I still fear you'll hear me say
Whatever it is that might be on my mind
But I don't know
What it is
They're all waiting
Gotta say something
To the audience in my head
Won't leave the show until I'm dead
But I don't get my daily bread from them
They use me up
So I fill my cup
Get mighty drunk
'Til I forget
We even met
We pour wine in the middle of May
Hang out on the Penobscot Bay
It's 33 degrees, by the way
And we'd have jobs but no one can pay
Oh no...
It's very cold
I'm getting old
And I'm on my own
Nobody told me to pay my dues
I'm 28 and still searching for clues
You're a 90s child, you don't sing the blues
No, no...
You're a spoiled brat
We all know that
So cut the crap
There is no map
Maybe an app
So give yourself a freaking break
Decide which pills you're gonna take
YOLO, kid, have your cake and eat it, too
I met Graham, and Graham met Bob
Which heroes are you gonna rob?
All the late greats are sobbing in their graves
The summer sun
Has just begun
We're having fun
He's got a gun
Hey, he's got a gun!
Watch out!
Everyone dies, it all goes to shit
Jesus preached, but this isn't it
Our faith has crumbled bit by bit
We're screwed...
But I'm all right
I'm all right
I'm all right
I'm all right now
'Cause I got a degree
Now Google Maps will lead the way
And you can stress but at the end of the day
You can't put that on your resume
No, no...
You idol Gods
You make the mods
Well, take your rods
And go fuck yourselves
Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Mckenna
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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