I never wanted to be young and stupid.
I longed for the respect of my elders,
and I achieved this through acting old,
even though my heart was young.

It's only now that I realize
being young and stupid
is a gift,
not a curse.
Being young and stupid
is permission to live
as wildly and as loudly
as you please.

So let's drink too much,
sing too loud,
and have too much fun

while we still can.

I do stupid things
Yet I still tell you not to
I know I’m a hypocrite
I just care for you to much
You are beautiful in my eyes
You can always make me smile
So please don’t do anything stupid
Because without you I couldn’t live

I gotta get outta here, man.
The smell of broken dreams
Hangs thick on everything
Til you can't wash it out.
The whole ****** town is
Self-medicated into a state of
Absolute acceptance of
The **** they're hip deep in.

I gotta get out of here.
My empathy is contorted
Into apathy, because it's easier
More convenient to not give a ****,
To hide in my sociopath shell
Knowing the world is burning outside
But my AC works, so ***** it.
I'm good.

I gotta get outta here
Before I become what I hate
Or somebody that I hate
Hate, in general, seems to be
A motivating factor in all this.
It seems now to outweigh the love
That used to make all my major decisions.
Call it a defense mechanism
Or cynicism, or whatever.
I'm starting to think it's evolution.
It's part of the cycle, the great circle-**** of life,
It's all vigor and enthusiasm
Til you've peaked.
Then comes the shame and regret.
I'm joking, but only slightly.
****, I gotta get out of here.

My flame used to shine bright
Thats until it happened
High school
I get judged everyday
I think everyone hates me
I get called nasty names
My family calls me fat
My flame was slowly going out
Like everyone one I liked was spraying water into it
I don't think i had any true friends
Apart from 2 or 3
Only 1 knows how I feel
But yes
My flame has gone out

Every movement
No matter how benign
Has its own Judas
Who won’t fall in line
Almost as if they fight
An idea that repairs
What is wrong and then
They give themselves airs.

They abuse the words
Patriotism and traitors
Naming those who catch
And watch them closely;
The guys in black hats,
Ignore the soot on their own,
Point and jeer at the others
Their brothers and sisters.

No sanity exists with them.
It’s clear they can’t think,
Don’t smell their own stink
But jink and cavort about
Like louts at a picnic
Completely forgetting that
It is they themselves who picked
The crooks they so abhor.

Once more they eviscerate
The thefts by the delegates
They sent to office to rob us
And blame it on us not them.
They are the very phlegm
In the national throat.
A herd of goats corralled
By their own crooked pals.

Then on reflection, they see
Something has gone wrong
And along the way perdition
Has set in with their permission;
They need someone to blame
So, the game of ignorant blame
Starts and lasts for years
While they have more beer.