Standard The whole song follows the progression | - - - | You were well dressed. Some kid called you "fresh to death" and I just left Through the back door thinking, "Oh hell, I wanna wanna go home." But it's like you never left, yeah your rotten scents is on my rotting breath and it's scaring everyone to death and off like a flame to the neck. Like a lit cigarette, you're killing me with every breath, And every breath's another regret. You're a cigarette. Yeah, you're cancer in a fucking stick. And I'm sick of being chained down, of being chained down in this town Like everyone else around, hands in my pocket, always looking down. I'm sick of overpriced books. Sick of the classrooms filled with nothing but dirty looks. I'm sick of hating everything. I'm sick of every song I'll ever sing. But I know, yeah I know there's gotta be more Than all that surrounds me, all I abhor. Like these frat kids in snapbacks with letters of their backpacks Sewn on like a fucking badge. Oh, please kill me Or just promise me that theres something more And tell me it's waiting out my front door. I swear I would start today. Oh, if only I could stop the rain.
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