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Too Old to Die Young

de Paper Citizen

this is the place you face the music i demonstrate
an altered state with the blacklight shining on the boombox
i rush the show to the underground spot from p.m. to a.m.
you are and i am choking on smoke below the coliseum
not soft-shoe
'cause i wear the new dance scoping the girls with the shrinky-dink pants milk
crate steady mic check one two feedback shellac about to break
on through broadcast by a radio station low downstairs at the basement
show mark the x on the party map a flying v peavy sonic attack the cops are here if you believe the rap
take a five-finger deal on the silver tap
i pull my hat down take the stairs down
getting together in with the out crowd
you got the beer we got the time
i'm skipping everybody in the bathroom line
robot moves on a wild rumpus standing up front
where the stacks is thumpin' so i'm keeping it on going all night long
clearing the six-foot on the front
lawn a bottleneck check your mic marinade
i come late to the masquerade to the sweatbox dirty kneesocks and i'm going through the back when the front door's locked

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