We can play a trendy beat,
We can sing about the love we lost.
Bitch about our mean boss,
Brag about the scene we choose,
The brand of booze, the style of shoes.
With all the charm and looks and cash,
There's something missing here.

The images are all the same,
The rules, they haven't changed,
And I forget what it all means now.
The images are all the same,
The rules, they haven't changed,
And I forget what it all means now.

Loosing touch
With what's been defined,
I'm loosing touch
With what's un-defined.

Do you get it? Do you get it?
Do you get it? Do you get it?

You said you tried, I said I tried.
We hope we will see you again.

Success becomes the enemy,
We fear what we want to be
And justify our fuck-ups
Like they fell from the sky.
Pity like a best friend,
Sucks your life and cigarettes.
Downs a beer and fills the space,
With an eager charm and grace.

The images don't mean a thing,
The rulebook's full of lies,
I don't know why we're here.
The images don't mean a thing,
The rulebook's full of lies,
I don't know why we're here.

Handing the shunned
A slap on the neck.
Just handing the shunned
A slap on the neck.

Ska-punk go!
The shunned!