if growin up gets harder
to stay out of a fight
if everyday you feel older
you never feel alright
and everything you do
is such a waste of time
and everyone you know
never find the time

its yr only device
heard it so many times
when you treat me like an invalid
honey im already dead

an existential crisis
a locker hidden gun
a sentimental likeness
a record collection
and all the boys in bands
are waitin til were done
so come on clap your hands
we'll try to have some fun

chorus

every boys' a musician
and all the girls are vegetarians
and all the ghosts are reactionary
and that's always gonna scare me

its only a refrain
and it always sounds the same
sing it loud if you can
not for me or for them
for every lonely american


stylish violence:
what you doin
when youre talkin to him
what you sayin
are you playin to win
do you keep me alive with a sly grin
are you ms 45 with my severed limbs

playin a part
penetrate silence
breakin my heart with stylish violence

come together
conditioned reaction
this is better
direct correlation
do you kill my time
revenge fascination
its all in my mind
its just masturbation

playin a part...

in my dreams im bleedin
im never conceivin
im not actual my physical perspective is fleeting
ill be a bad man, i got my hands up
i need a violent girl, i need your good luck

nevermind, why won't you talk to me
ill be different, ill embody modernity
all the boys talk tough
they're gettin pushy lately
but you've such a keen touch
how you slay me baby