1
Admit it!
Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance
And vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs
You know nothing about art or sex
That you couldn't read in any trendy New York underground fashion magazine
Prototypical non-conformist
You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store Gestapo
You adhere to a set of standards and tastes
That appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges (bullshit)
Giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art
Go analog baby, you're so post-modern
You're diving face forward into a antiquated path
It's disgusting, its offensive, don't stick your nose up at me
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends
Pontificating to each other
Forever competing for that one moment of self-aggrandizing glory
In which you hog the intellectual spotlight
Holding dominion over the entire shallow pointless conversation
Oh, we're not worthy
When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people
You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff
It's the same superiority complex
Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell
And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma
You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
'Cause I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar
Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah
Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved
I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled
I worry about how this album will sell
Because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future
I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety
You are a faker (admit it)
You are a fraud (admit it)
Yeah, you're living a lie (hey) living a lie (hey) you're life is living a lie
You don't impress me (admit it)
You don't intimidate me (admit it)
Why don't you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank (yeah!)
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah (what do you..)
Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my..
Guitar, guitar go!
I drift drift drift drift drift yeah
I drift drift drift drift drift yeah oh
And I am done with this
I want to taste the breeze of every great city
My car and my guitar
My car and my guitar
So you'll come to be, made of these, urgent unfulfilled
Oh no no no no no
When I'm dead I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest way still
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance
And vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs
You know nothing about art or sex
That you couldn't read in any trendy New York underground fashion magazine
Prototypical non-conformist
You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store Gestapo
You adhere to a set of standards and tastes
That appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges (bullshit)
Giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art
Go analog baby, you're so post-modern
You're diving face forward into a antiquated path
It's disgusting, its offensive, don't stick your nose up at me
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends
Pontificating to each other
Forever competing for that one moment of self-aggrandizing glory
In which you hog the intellectual spotlight
Holding dominion over the entire shallow pointless conversation
Oh, we're not worthy
When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people
You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff
It's the same superiority complex
Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell
And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma
You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
'Cause I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar
Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah
Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved
I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled
I worry about how this album will sell
Because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future
I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety
You are a faker (admit it)
You are a fraud (admit it)
Yeah, you're living a lie (hey) living a lie (hey) you're life is living a lie
You don't impress me (admit it)
You don't intimidate me (admit it)
Why don't you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank (yeah!)
Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
And I say yeah (what do you..)
Proud of my life and the things that I have done
Proud of myself and the loner I've become
You're free to whine, it will not get you far
I do just fine, my car and my..
Guitar, guitar go!
I drift drift drift drift drift yeah
I drift drift drift drift drift yeah oh
And I am done with this
I want to taste the breeze of every great city
My car and my guitar
My car and my guitar
So you'll come to be, made of these, urgent unfulfilled
Oh no no no no no
When I'm dead I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest way still
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
When I'm dead I'll rest, I'll rest
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This song is about elitist hipsters in general, the kind that condescend to emo kids and scene kids. Yet, at the same time Max is indicting elitists, I personally think he comes out as more pretentious and elitist than the hipsters he criticizes. Not everyone who shops at thrift stores or looks "pseudo-bohemian" or uses analog equipment is a snooty elitist. He then gets defensive and tries to make himself seem genuine and not so pretentious by stating his own unpretentious ambitions. I dislike elitists as much as anyone else, but this song is just plain mean-spirited- you just simply can't attempt to tear someone apart like he does because of material things like he does. It reminds me of the scene in Good Will Hunting in which Matt Damon walks into Robin Williams' character's office and just starts talking tons of shit about him because of the paintings and other items he sees in there.