Your conditional surrender
is such a never-ender:
no one's gonna suffer you gladly,
so what's to keep you from behaving badly?
We don't wanna grow old;
we are what we know.
We could try to find home,
but we don't know where to go.
Now you're at a loss with what to do
with the brand new posse you've accrued;
traded a few close friends for a pack of dudes
who couldn't pay less attention (‘less you paid them to).
Their shows and parties are a feedback loop,
codify “good times” and break the best bad news.
Sad kids work up nerve to succeed or fail,
and try to get hammered so they can try to get nailed.
Mom and Dad'll say
that it's just a phase,
but it's been like this
for days and days!
We say goodbye like
it's a statement of purpose.
Used to cry over past lives.
Decided it's not worth it.