Run
I used to think that the whole town was against us
Punchin' through hedges and jumpin' over fences
A couple cops on our tails
Sweatin' and gettin' breathless
Yellin' out threats to us:
"YOU LITTLE FUCKERS, we'll get yas!"
Man, just for skatin' some ledges
And plus we used to rack a bunch of stuff in '98
Jackets with 100 pockets full of chocolates
Lookin' like a human piñata stumbled out of the IGA
Grew up by the beach face-plantin' on skate ramps
And laughin' at tourists usin' spray-cans of fake tan as if they hate sand!
Just a bunch of vague little vagrants in a cultural wasteland
With a boner tucked in my waist-band (it's not mine!)
And those cops are still chasin' us
8 of us laughin' while they fell further behind
Kinda dangerous when you got a schoolbag of paraphernalia
And a good-behavior bong
So motherfucker: the chase is on
I'm sorry but it's not my fault
Something inside me that I can't let go
No I just can't let go...
And I just wanna run...
So last night I found a job site
That had enough ply to make a half-pipe!
So while the tradesmen were startin' bar fights
And smashin' glass pints
We were climbin' barbed-wire fences under floodlights!
Hey man I wonder if that dog bites?
I bet your brand new pants that it just might.!
Yo fuck the ramp lets steal another slab of (?????)
So I'll go around back while you distract the bottle-shop guy
Warm weathermen, sweet waves and beach babes
In winter everything changed so we became creative teenagers
Pourin' bongwater through a tea-strainer
Seemed a waste to roll the weeks wages into 3 papers
And we seem baked even without the weed vapors
Like the breeze changes we ware blazin'
And just feeze-frame us street skaters
Cliché dreams of maybe bein' famous
Knees grazed cause all these streets are paved with fuckin' cheese-graters!
S'been so long since the police chased us
Feel like goin' out and doin' something that seems dangerous
I miss doin' the wrong thing and givin' false names
When the cops came and drew bats like (?????)
I'm sorry but it's not my fault
Something inside me that I can't let go
No I just can't let go...
And I just wanna run...
I'm still there in the back of my head little kid tellin you to shut up!
I'm still there in the back of my head hear the (woop! woop!) gotta run on...
I'm still there in the back of my head little kid tellin you to shut up!
I'm still there in the back of my head hear the (woop! woop!) gotta run on...
I used to think the whole town was against us
On second thoughts maybe we were just against the town!
An environment that was pretty good for a childhood
And retirement providing that silence you get the fuck out
There's a bunch of Frankensteins up on the Franksten line
Dead folks scratchin' their neck-bolts.
It's not their fault cause they were just never given chances:
Zombies in button-up FILA pands doin' the "Thriller" dance!
It's been a long time since Franksten was on a postcard
Most of the kids I know from the peninsula stayed
But if you don't have a trade then everything is just so hard
Your last words are "rosebud" like citizen kane (nice reference!)
Man, it all feels like it was yesterday
I miss doin' dumb shit and tryin' to get away!
So when yous see me runnin' from the cops and gettin' tased:
I ain't cryin', I'm smilin' through a face full of pepper-spray!
Punchin' through hedges and jumpin' over fences
A couple cops on our tails
Sweatin' and gettin' breathless
Yellin' out threats to us:
"YOU LITTLE FUCKERS, we'll get yas!"
Man, just for skatin' some ledges
And plus we used to rack a bunch of stuff in '98
Jackets with 100 pockets full of chocolates
Lookin' like a human piñata stumbled out of the IGA
Grew up by the beach face-plantin' on skate ramps
And laughin' at tourists usin' spray-cans of fake tan as if they hate sand!
Just a bunch of vague little vagrants in a cultural wasteland
With a boner tucked in my waist-band (it's not mine!)
And those cops are still chasin' us
8 of us laughin' while they fell further behind
Kinda dangerous when you got a schoolbag of paraphernalia
And a good-behavior bong
So motherfucker: the chase is on
I'm sorry but it's not my fault
Something inside me that I can't let go
No I just can't let go...
And I just wanna run...
So last night I found a job site
That had enough ply to make a half-pipe!
So while the tradesmen were startin' bar fights
And smashin' glass pints
We were climbin' barbed-wire fences under floodlights!
Hey man I wonder if that dog bites?
I bet your brand new pants that it just might.!
Yo fuck the ramp lets steal another slab of (?????)
So I'll go around back while you distract the bottle-shop guy
Warm weathermen, sweet waves and beach babes
In winter everything changed so we became creative teenagers
Pourin' bongwater through a tea-strainer
Seemed a waste to roll the weeks wages into 3 papers
And we seem baked even without the weed vapors
Like the breeze changes we ware blazin'
And just feeze-frame us street skaters
Cliché dreams of maybe bein' famous
Knees grazed cause all these streets are paved with fuckin' cheese-graters!
S'been so long since the police chased us
Feel like goin' out and doin' something that seems dangerous
I miss doin' the wrong thing and givin' false names
When the cops came and drew bats like (?????)
I'm sorry but it's not my fault
Something inside me that I can't let go
No I just can't let go...
And I just wanna run...
I'm still there in the back of my head little kid tellin you to shut up!
I'm still there in the back of my head hear the (woop! woop!) gotta run on...
I'm still there in the back of my head little kid tellin you to shut up!
I'm still there in the back of my head hear the (woop! woop!) gotta run on...
I used to think the whole town was against us
On second thoughts maybe we were just against the town!
An environment that was pretty good for a childhood
And retirement providing that silence you get the fuck out
There's a bunch of Frankensteins up on the Franksten line
Dead folks scratchin' their neck-bolts.
It's not their fault cause they were just never given chances:
Zombies in button-up FILA pands doin' the "Thriller" dance!
It's been a long time since Franksten was on a postcard
Most of the kids I know from the peninsula stayed
But if you don't have a trade then everything is just so hard
Your last words are "rosebud" like citizen kane (nice reference!)
Man, it all feels like it was yesterday
I miss doin' dumb shit and tryin' to get away!
So when yous see me runnin' from the cops and gettin' tased:
I ain't cryin', I'm smilin' through a face full of pepper-spray!
Credits
Writer(s): Rudy Sandapa, Kaelyn Behr, Seth Marton, Nic Martin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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