I spend my days in the despair of teenage angst,
And everyone is sick of hearing about it.
If I lay my face on the cool floorboard shanks
My superiors insist I stand once more.
They don't understand how my heart is sore.
They tell me they've been through it as well.
They know what I'm feeling.
And they have stories they're more than happy to tell.
My heydays are different from theirs.
And I can see through their sarcastic words.
They lie more than anyone I've seen.
They tell me stories that are complete farces.
No wonder we're all the cynical teens.
They want to act as if angst is unjustified.
But it's hard when your innocence just died.
