Small Town Syndrome

Blew another, blew another, blew another gasket with two in the trunk, one in the back
Fill another, fill another, fill another casket, go fuel at the pump and hit the gas
Gotta get out, foot down and go, go, go
Gotta get out, or it's your funeral
Gotta get out, get out just go, go, go
This city talks, trust me

Everybody knows
Everybody knows you're a mess
Get up and go, everybody knows
That you wear the blood on your hands
That's, that's everybody
Even your skeletons remember what you did
It's not your paranoia
You're in the city of the dead
City of the dead

So take a look outside, the condition
It's small town syndrome and big time lows

You hardly knew them, just avert your eyes
Freeway exit closing, put your foot down and drive
Gotta get out, foot down and go, go, go
Gotta get out, or it's your funeral
Gotta get out, get out and go, go, go
This city talks, and I know

Everybody knows
Everybody knows you're a mess
Get up and go, everybody knows
That you wear the blood on your hands
That's, that's everybody
Even your skeletons remember what you did
Bloodsucker
Just strap yourself in, motherfucker

Now you're approaching the skyline
And as you shoot through the sunrise
Just think
You gave it all away to feel alone
You gave it all away to feel, and you feel alone

Even your skeletons remember what you did
Feel alone
Even your skeletons remember what you did
Feel alone