Mom, I Might Be An Anarchisthey mom,More Like This
i'm thirteen years today
and i think i might be a rebel.
i heard this distorted song
radiating from the speakers of a 4runner
the driver was breathing through a cigarette
today i bought my first punk rock CD
and learned how to properly use profanity.
the lead singer hated his dad
and i was alright with that.
i think i have a mohawk.
we sat under the bridge
like we were badass.
and one of my friends stole some cigarettes from his dad.
we smoked the whole pack
and stumbled back to some girl's house
and played like we were twenty-one.
but we're still stuck at fifteen.
everything was blurry
but i was warm and i smiled.
they cut my hair in straight lines.
i think i'm a rebel.
i might be an anarchist.
this girl from school grabbed my hand
and drove me to the back of the mall.
we sat in the bed of the truck in the parking lot
like we owned it
and got high.
we talked about w's ears or something,
i don't remember.
we related everything to childhood l