Chipped paint; Carol's gonna turn into dust
An old saint; A silver surface worn into rust
From long nights in a neighborhood I started to trust
To you, it's just Scotch Tape and a heightened sense of cowardly pride
A u-lock (some entitlement to keep by your side)
A felt pen, a detour from your morning ride
And what's left behind with your note
It's the reason I'll be running so late
A fine point to write off what I'll draw on today
And draft out the storyline to acting my age
To which I say:

Have you ever felt your perfect teeth
Make a connection with Chicago concrete?

It's messed up. You always can become what you hate
It's bad luck or intention for attention's sake
It's so fucked that you couldn't say this straight to my face

Have you ever felt your perfect teeth
Make a connection with Chicago concrete?
Do gears change as often as the seasons?
Is there a cycle set to breathe in?
Is this the part of me I'll forget?
A chained fence, the cement
Where a casual promise can become a threat
Chipped paint; Carol's gonna turn into dust
An old saint; A silver surface worn into rust
From long nights in a neighborhood I started to trust
To me, it's just messed up you always can become what you hate
It's bad luck or intention for attention's sake
It's so fucked that I couldn't say this straight to your face
To which you'll say:

Have you ever felt your perfect teeth
Make a connection with Chicago concrete?
Do gears change as often as the seasons?
Is there a cycle set to breathe in?
Is this the part of me you'll forget?