"Nobody understands" is more common in my head now than it used to be. I used to look at it as a stereotype used to describe teens full of angst who don't get what they want. When the whole world looks your way, you swear they turn and go in another direction. Well now I think I caught on, or maybe I better say I caught the cold that you've been feeling inside, it's exactly what you've been talking about. I realized that I just became a stereotype, so I wince at my mind's own attacks at myself and I just look down and put on record that spins mockingly as it repeats the same old lies to my family and my friends.
Keep walking forward with no destination set, it's how I've lived until now so why change? I planned a party to indulge in complaints, so why was I not shocked nobody else showed up? I guess all the pity was left up to me. It's safe for you to guess I left with a full stomach and rest assured I became twice as bitter. It's become commonplace in my head, an old habit renewing it's license to rain on my parade every chance it gets. So I continue my path down the road and grab that record again, how has nobody caught on to my act yet? Am I that convincing?
The words I write down and the things I think about, they will never reach your ears. Only to your eyes 'cause I'm a coward. How could it be any more predictable? Maybe if they took a look inside they'd get a surprised look on their face when they come to find out that I'm twice as crazy as them. Or maybe they'd laugh and try to downplay all my problems with what I know I thought all along. "You became a living stereotype."
It's a weird time to be alive I didn't think I'd get this far picturing myself older when I was younger I didn't expect to find my self leaning on a car with a broken handle next to a boy you couldn't see the hickey on his neck because it was dark Adam's apple illuminated smoke it rises behind the back of a building ready to run if we hear a car coming but we don't so we smoke and mom here's what I made of myself we don't talk because this awkward tension is too familiar to want to break it with our voices. Later in the car driving fast we laugh because we just thought of how we became the people we were afraid of becoming all along but now it feels right and we don't want to slow down because those red lights they are lights to show us the way when we drive through and I want to reach over and take his hand but that's childish so I lean over and kiss him instead because we are not little kids anymore in fact we are too young to be old but we feel too old now to do anything but laugh at how we were ten years before.