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Careers In Science
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The Shape of Punk That's Left
Will I have to trade all of my black and white t-shirts for x-rays?
And what will become of my memories, like the time I sang 'True Believers' up on stage?
And what about my friends? Will any of them make it to my last event? Cuz I know the show's across town, and I never draw, so what should I do?
I've got to hold on, hold on.
I've got to hold on, hold on to everything,
I've got a hold on everything, drape these old flyers over me from when we were young and could never die. What have you done when you've D.I.Y.?
And maybe I'm overreacting, and I'm the first kid with an axe to grind who's never gonna die, never gonna die, never gonna die.
These are the conversations that I need to have with myself.
I can't wear nihilism, it clashes with my leather belt.
These are the conversations, the doubts that I have with each breath, and after every song sung I'm not sure how much I have left.
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