Isn't it weird how all the years spent hating this place
Ultimately lead us back to the same block?
And I'm ashamed of the effort I put in
To look like every other dope in this coffee shop
I guess you could call it a symptom
Of this problem we have called growing up
"I'm sorry sir, we've got some bad news for you:
I don't think we caught this one early enough"

And my dreams about my hair falling out
Well, they're starting to come true
And the seams that held my thought process together
Well, they're starting to undo

So you can send me out to pasture
You'll find me at a bar or a post-rock/garage-rock show
Because I need to get to sleep a little faster
To forget about all the people that I used to know

And all the friends that I thought I'd miss so much
Are the ones that don't ask when I'm around or not
And all the cool times that I thought we used to have
Just amount to smoking dope in the parking lot
I guess you could call it a symptom of thinking you had more than you do now
I don't think I want to catch up sometime
I'm happy where we are now

And sometimes I run my fingers through my hair, and none of it falls out
And I think I'm in the process of learning what being young's about

So I don't think I'm headed for disaster
In fact, I think I'm leaving it behind
Because I'm way smarter than I was last year
So don't ask me how I'm doing, because I'm doing fine.


Lyrics submitted by johnny_tsunami

The End of Rock Piano song meanings
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