I feel so dumb So void of conviction Afraid of my symptoms I locked myself out
There's nothing in this empty house To save me from my lingering doubts Your image in the very space I inherit now
Well I tell myself everything is going to be fine Yeah Right Yeah Right Yeah Right
Woah Woah Woah
We are the product of a broken class But, we weren't raised to be fucking morons I am the product of my father's burden It wasn't promised to me It wasn't promised to me
So if you want to come and smoke on Friday I'll make a promise to maintain my distance I never wanted to retreat so quietly Let's smoke a cigarette
We are the product of a broken class But, we weren't raised to be fucking morons