Feet planted firm, shit talked, jokes made.
There was something in our tone of voice,
something in our eyes.
Tourist trap, fuck that.
There was nothing to do, but still we made our way.
There's something out there swimming in the water,
here's to hoping it's a shark to finish those bastards off.
We were never the types for showing off.
There's something out there swimming in the water,
here's to hoping it's a shark to finish those fuckers off.
We were never the types for growing up
Dragged our bodies down the street, curses shouted to the wind.
The best of swears and cerebral tears
shared amongst the best of friends.
Tourist trap, fuck that.
There was nothing to do.
But bang our heads into the ground until they fucking bleed.
Here's to the beach we never go to.
Here's to hating the fucks that do.
Here's to the socially binding problems
that bound together me and you.
Here's to the nights we stayed up talking.
Here's to all the crazy shit we saw.
Here's to Caroline, Madison, Ridgewood, and Young,
and here's to fuck them all.
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