Fred Thomas - Expo '87 lyrics

I get so hung up high on expectations I get so sick at restaurants and on family vacations And I leave every situation invariably feeling dumb But you've got to be a little bit dumb Otherwise you never get anything done And you've gotta be kinda hit Otherwise you spend your time smiling entirely too much Wincing while you're waiting For that next soft punch So give up, f** up, stay out Cause no one's keeping score now This punishment, it doesn't fit But f** it, we've got it You still know what all the drop-outs know And anybody who's ever lost a tooth It doesn't bring you any closer to the truth But you do start to recognize things So can you keep your firm belief in those ill-fitting jeans A burning hatred of the home team and everything that it means Will you go with the mongrels? The deciders? The jelly legs and anxious elbows of the awkward lovers? The unsightly? The sickly? The migraines? Let's puke up the foam from this bottle of champagne Let's ruin this f**ing wedding! All these nights are only worth forgetting This conversation; we're so above it Let's bury it Let's dead that sh**!