Who made this mess we once called home?
Sins of the flesh, are not sinned alone
Invite the arsonist for incendiary fun
Where there's smoke, there are cigarettes
And blindfolds and guns
The house was on fire, as the victim screamed
While her hands were tied, and he barely breathed

We had it all, that's what they'll say
We did not seize, we stole the day
Now there we are, punk rock cliches
We knew the risks, we played the game
With our own rules, we fanned the flames
Punk rock cliches

Her lies success, full as a lie can be
Those who need to blur the truth, believe lies set you free
Enter the arsonist, when the fire began
Trust can burn like the Hindenburg and one gasoline can
We had it all, gave it away, the peruvincent price we have to pay
When we licked clean the silver tray
Why did our home burn down so fast?
Castles of stone are supposed to last
Why can't I get passed through the past

We knew the odds, we placed the bets
If you play the domme-con, there's no regret
In punk rock roulette

'Cause when I watched it all crumble away
I realized the walls we built were just paper mache

How punk rock cliche

Copyright: Wixen Music Publishing
Writer(s): Matthew Skiba, Michael John Burkett