To all you backstabbing cut throats
And your overgrown egos
You’ll get yours tomorrow
Don’t beg, plead, or borrow
Tonight You’ll See
Just Where You’ll Be
To know your all alone

Dirty glasses on the floor
Memories, nothing more
Acquaintances as we pass by
Shake my hand again this time

From where I’m standing your not going anywhere
We might not be punk enough, but we’re too punk to care
Maybe I’ll never understand
When there’s no rhyme, no reason for the things we never said
And the skeletons in our closets are all but dead

Dirty glasses on the floor
Memories, nothing more
Acquaintances as we pass by
Shake my hand again this time