Lyrics

You weren't lost in a dream Progressive education and fantasy Driving from that shore to this shore You weren't lost 'til you lost your pants Taking a final in Anthropologie Smoking a canned blunt Pounding a forty Hold your hair back miladies and dry heave How do you do when alive? The other's an option that doesn't deliver It's not like you can watch 'em cry Over granite headstones, cremation down the river No, the skies are falling Throw your face over a toilet Give us your tattooed smile and dry heave Could never give you good advice Well, what do I know about death and dying? You can travel to Oprah's Chicago But the broad is gonna make all your problems worse She'll take your problems and make 'em hers Make a production Give us emotion Put up your jazz hands Jane, your jazz Put up your jazz hands Oh, you know the skies are falling, oh Oh, you know the skies are falling, oh Jane, you know the skies are falling, oh Chicken Little says the skies are falling, oh Yeah you know Yeah you know Yeah you know the skies are falling Yeah you know the skies are falling Yeah you know Yeah you know Yeah you know the skies Yeah you know the skies