Bastards

[Verse 1]

You can get anything that you want

In a particular array of styles

And you’re addicted to the photographs

But your subscription to the magazine is running out

You can keep everyone satisfied

By the choices that you make in life

And dressing to impress your neighbor

But our sun-dried bones all probably look the same

In the end we’re semi-permanent

With a low participation rate

No membership required to find yourself in someone else’s sad routine

I can’t help but get еxcited at

The possibility of other plans

So I'll writе myself out of the contract

With the blood from my cut-up hands

From my hands

[Chorus]

Maybe, when the tension’s overflowing

We'll take the scissors to the line

Kill ourselves and make a difference

Maybe, when you feel it all collapsing

There’s nothing left here to enjoy

I think we’re ready for the asteroid