2nd Son Of A 2nd Son

2nd Son Of A 2nd Son - Yip Deceiver

We heard it everyday

Just pretty lights and hit parades

And we were just another one

Hell-bent to make a little scrape

And now that life of office chairs perfect kids and thinning hair

Comes scratching but it's wrong

Feels so goddamned wrong

Whatever happened to the things we used to know were right

Like beer caffeine and cigarettes

Punk rock songs and squatter's rights

We scrawled them down and left them there to die

Illegible

To suffocate alone under collections of collectibles

Come on

G-e-t-i-t together

L-e-g-i-t

G-e-t-i-t together

L-e-g-i-t

We're all just guilty little pieces of a bigger dream

Just cryptic little notes we send to someone else's fax machine

I love the thought of never loving anything

I love it 'cause it's wrong it feels so goddamned wrong

Oh lord forgive our little flights

We didn't make it but we tried

And can you blame us

We'd all love to know just what it's like

To die on salty afternoons and dissipate with all the fumes

Of things we'd never guess

We live to die a perfect mess