Four letter tattoos and white flags

so surrender every lie that you have saved up
for the impending and never-ending cutting of every tie
of all the ties that you've lived your whole sheltered life creating
(just live your life until you die)

you don't have to be polite about it... in fact, fuck it: let's shout it
"I've moved out, finally moved on"
I mean we're now pallbearers when grieving friends
national guardsmen and working stiffs
marines at war and marriages

I think it's about time we save ourselves and fade out, fade away
so that the say this and say that's of this small town
will fade out, fade away

you don't have to be polite about it
why should I fake the way I look into your face
to tell you that I've left home
and why do we always fake our way through
with that old familiar taste
I mean the circle has always closed in on itself
whether you were there or not and no one ever lied about that shit

I mean, we can party and all but just not like it's 1999
and I know that I'm a contradiction on two legs
you've seen my ways
and you've read and you've read the ways of the insane
but I think that I'm finally saved