Your shirts are pressed    Your words are planned    Your jeans are ripped    Your skin is tan    And like the cancer in your hands    You've plagued this town with schemes and plans    It makes me sick that they can't see    Your own predictive irony    You're at your peak and that's just fine    You take your moment; I'll take mine       I'd like to believe the best of me    Is something I have yet to see    Cause working at dead-end jobs and skipping class    And spending hours on my ass    Just doesn't sound like any fun to me       I hate to judge, but I can't stop    Unless you step off your soapbox    Cause it's caving in and you can't tell    You're busy checking out yourself    Oh, you're so deep; your taste is chic   But we both know that talk is cheap    It matters least the words you shout    If you don't know what's coming out       I'd like to believe the best of me    Is something I have yet to see    Cause working at dead-end jobs and skipping class    And spending hours on my ass    Just doesn't sound like any fun to me       It's senior year and we're all down    Of getting out of this old town    You're staying back, you'd rather stop    Cause at this moment you're on top    The years will pass; we'll all come through    And you'll be right just where we left you    You'll realize you weren't so cool    And that we're all so over high school       I'd like to believe the best of me    Is something I have yet to see    Cause working at dead-end jobs and skipping class    And spending hours on my ass    Just doesn't sound like any fun to me