Yo, let's take it slow, Grant Damon on the track, drum pattern like this goes boom, boom snap, and we go a bit faster with the high hats and bring in the synths for the hook like that


There was a time when used to be cool but those days departed some place back in high school, I was tight-jeaned, long bangs, living by rules DIY scene, homemade shirts and livejournal crying over girls and trying to keep assured that maybe my face wasn't the ugliest in the world, had a myspace, mp3.com and pure volume sang and played bass, listened to the cure and the gutterpunk kids tried to kick my ass because I got x'd up when I went to class, punched my friend in the mouth when he smoked some grass, and wore a white patent leather belt to hold up my pants and I gave up meat for some cred in the scene and stopped rocking Nikes cause of the sweatshop thing, you know what I mean, it was them vs. me, I was fighting back you see, now I climb the ladder see my life is a catastrophe

I remember I was totally self-righteous, and I was probably right but still I was a mean motherfucker. LIved for Friday nights so that all my scene friends and I could gather watching shitty bands and passing judgment on one another. Still I played three shows, two at the teen center, one at the rec center, zero since been better. It was Tony, Axel, and then me and maybe thirty band-teed kids thinking we're trendsetters.Now take a look at me in my quarter-zip sweater and my semi-baggy jeans, stepping in my brown leather, call me a square but I lost my edge back when I broke my edge, yeah Huey Lewis couldn't do better. Yeah I guess I grew up, now we say the scene sucks, or maybe it's just me but without it we'd never be us. Course that doesn't mean much if I'm just the same as everyone but damn if i ain't changed by all this i'll never be a tame one

(Grant)I used to know and quote the shows when they played on tv
and all the songs, note for note in the top forty
Poor me, I was soaring high at fourteen
and now I am boring like a guy at forty

(Pat)Middle age quietly creeping up on me
Button-up, dad jeans riding up on me
All my friends from high school giving up on me
They're still cool, and they almost had enough of me

(Grant)oh, I traded Rolling Stone for the Economist
Living so slow you better call the taxonomist
Former half-interesting people anonymous
My name is Grant, and I really have a problem

(Pat)This lack of hipness hit me like a sickness
(Grant)Socially comatose except for bedside visits
(Pat)And everyone I know is like he used to be with it
(Both)Don't get it, he used to be cool, but now he isn't