Here's the thing with self-medicating You live for the highs, you die from the aching (Oh, how I enjoy the burn Once it's on there's no return)
The rumours you've heard, each one is true The partying's excessive, the methods all but new (If it ain't broke, don't you fix it No goddamn advice from the backseat)
refrain: Six-string razorcuts Afterparty clusterfucks Embracing the clichés, living the life Think fast, look alive
These scars in my skin mark a time and a place A band of brothers, a punch in the face (And I refuse to regret these Fuck no, I refuse to regret these)
Not about to slow down the pace To hold back would be a disgrace (Ain't getting any younger here Gotta get it all out before we disappear)
