Beach Front Property - Etc Version

Well, it's the end of days
We're just hopin' for the beach front property
Numb with indecision
Darin' some asshole to take a swing
Got eight hundred dollars
To my name, not sure what it means
Tryna 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
Duckin' in my seat 'cause someone brought a bag into the movie theater
Everyone shrugged at the same time, yeah, yeah, we know
You're sick and sad there are thirty-somethings in a bar
So 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
It's not like any of us feel the shame
Count on one hand all the good we've done

It's the end of days
You're still pissing in the wind
Don't believe in God
Figured 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
It's 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