Go back to the old crap
To the things you tell yourself you've gotten through
But it's just been a week of
Desperately trying not to sweat off the glue
'Cause the body wants to do things
That the body wants to do
It's a shell coated in candy
For the ground that waits for you
Rip your friends off
Write a new song
Call it "Shame" and claim its indelible truths
Play the victim
Be a shithead
Throw the blame at anyone coming for you
'Cause the brain's gonna do things
That the brain's gonna do
I'm the worst kind of person
And I'm still in love with you
(Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!)
How's it animosity can just cut right through
The fog of a pixelated memory
That you figured was long gone?
And it shape shifts into guilt
That corners you into rights and wrongs
'Cause you told yourself you're the kind of person
Who knows how to move on
And the only way to trick yourself
Into not feeling insane
Are the negative impulses that you struggle to restrain
You know that nothing's real
But you sink your hooks into mistakes anyway
And you're paralyzed by the how's and why's
Because people never change
You can call it "angst" but I ain't seen proof
That the world ain't fucked
And we ain't just doomed to the truth
So sing along
La, la, la la la, la
La la la, la la la la la
La, la, la la la, la
La la la, la la la la la
'Cause I'm still gonna do all of the things I want to do
But the truth at the moment is
I'm tired of the truth
Yeah, I'm tired of the truth
Yeah, I'm tired and I'm through
