Lyrics

[Verse 1] The lottery line at Fine Foods Is three blocks long And Hasan's selling PBR To hipsters with ironic mustaches Who most definitely once were punk But now wear flannel And scream over bar chords On acoustic guitars The park's full of scum fucks Oggles and train kids Busking and flying signs for sparks and beast ice But not food for their dogs Not laundromats to clean their clothes They don't even shower but that's how it goes [Chorus] And I don't care much either way Cause when their my age they'll all own SAABS Vacation homes with pending divorce Memberships at the golf course But I do not Hell no I do not [Verse 2] You see I grew up in a traffic jam A cul-de-sac all-American With tapered jeans and leather jackets and Nike high-tops A hair farmer from the suburbs A drunk speed metal drummer Now how the hell did I end up in a Realtree camo and Carharts It's safe to say that I lost grip Oh look, there goes another hipster kid In neon on a track bike paying a school to learn art A buy green vegetarian A fashion Icon charlatan At the bar buying rounds On his mother's credit card [Chorus] And I don't care much either way Cause when they're my age they'll all own SAABS Vacation homes with pending divorce Memberships at the golf course But I do not Hell no No I do not