This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
I've tried dolls that were guaranteed sixteen or under none were very exciting
Sorta like a laugh track or whacking off they'll get you off but it's just not the real thing
Its been decades since my pit days
But I haven't shaken it - I sit there like an idiot
Still caught up in the old punk protocol
And dreaming that the teenagers will think that I'm a radical
and I still wait for the bus to come where the high school got torn down
Still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
In back of the bank in my hometown
all this talk and no action's got me stiff from the tit to the bone
So I'm living in lala land - but at least I'm not living at home
Same old catcalls, the same old chemicals
Same old thrills stealing stockings from the shopping mall
Its simple enough to grow the fuck up happy with the rough cut
Nobodys in here looking for a diamond in the rough but
I still wait for my mom to come and pick me up at holly's house
10 years after they cashed it in to make a multi-level parking lot for a seven-eleven and burger king
I've got cryptographs I've got all the phones tapped
It's proof enough it is indisputable
Love's not good enough I want photographs
Something that will teach me my arithmetic at last..
better get your kids in - I'm on the loose again
And getting more ridiculous the more I think I ought to get my mind out of the gutter
(it's getting dangerous, amanda-you are old enough to be the pork)
He's my own private highway from the cradle to the grave
I save a bundle skipping middle age and saturdays
and I still wait for the cops to come where the station since burned down
Still expecting they'll pick me up for all the sins I committed in the back of the banged-up pickup truck
I've got autographs, backstage passes and leather jacket back patches up the...
Ask me anything I've got evidence
Single serving saccharine packets dripping black with lipstick kisses
I still wait for the bus to come back where the high school got torn down
Still expecting to find true love among the sakteboarders hanging out
In back of the bank in my home-
I'm no pederast just out of interes
Thank you ,but I'm capable of getting up and getting dressed
Love's not good enough I want photographs
Something that will teach me common sense
Time and time again
I think ill dye my hair again
Oh god
Sixteen
No, I'm ten
I'm seventeen
And a bank of boston beauty queen....
Sorta like a laugh track or whacking off they'll get you off but it's just not the real thing
Its been decades since my pit days
But I haven't shaken it - I sit there like an idiot
Still caught up in the old punk protocol
And dreaming that the teenagers will think that I'm a radical
and I still wait for the bus to come where the high school got torn down
Still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
In back of the bank in my hometown
all this talk and no action's got me stiff from the tit to the bone
So I'm living in lala land - but at least I'm not living at home
Same old catcalls, the same old chemicals
Same old thrills stealing stockings from the shopping mall
Its simple enough to grow the fuck up happy with the rough cut
Nobodys in here looking for a diamond in the rough but
I still wait for my mom to come and pick me up at holly's house
10 years after they cashed it in to make a multi-level parking lot for a seven-eleven and burger king
I've got cryptographs I've got all the phones tapped
It's proof enough it is indisputable
Love's not good enough I want photographs
Something that will teach me my arithmetic at last..
better get your kids in - I'm on the loose again
And getting more ridiculous the more I think I ought to get my mind out of the gutter
(it's getting dangerous, amanda-you are old enough to be the pork)
He's my own private highway from the cradle to the grave
I save a bundle skipping middle age and saturdays
and I still wait for the cops to come where the station since burned down
Still expecting they'll pick me up for all the sins I committed in the back of the banged-up pickup truck
I've got autographs, backstage passes and leather jacket back patches up the...
Ask me anything I've got evidence
Single serving saccharine packets dripping black with lipstick kisses
I still wait for the bus to come back where the high school got torn down
Still expecting to find true love among the sakteboarders hanging out
In back of the bank in my home-
I'm no pederast just out of interes
Thank you ,but I'm capable of getting up and getting dressed
Love's not good enough I want photographs
Something that will teach me common sense
Time and time again
I think ill dye my hair again
Oh god
Sixteen
No, I'm ten
I'm seventeen
And a bank of boston beauty queen....
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The song's about not being able to move on from high school... When you're a teenager, everything's rushed and stupid, but you're at the most impressionable age of your life, and it's often the strongest memories of one's life that are created at this time. Amanda is incredibly self-deprecating throughout, with lines such as "Still caught up in the old punk protocol / And dreaming that the teenagers will think that I’m a radical" and "Same old thrills, stealing stockings from the shopping mall," she is obviously remembering the adrenaline-rushed days of her youth, clinging to them; she's lost in nostalgia and sorrow and by the end of the song, she has given in completely, realizing she hasn't grown up or away: "Oh God / I'm thirty / No, I'm ten / I'm seventeen / And a Bank of Boston Beauty Queen;" revealing the way she perceives her immaturity.
I think it's about how every time she goes back to boston she still tries to fit in with all the young people, she still wants to be cool in their eyes or something...