Letra de Suburban Yellow

We win one more pissing match
And march onto the north
Standing still in a sinking pool
Suburban yellow is our truth
Banged up and bent out
Of shape and place
Sleeping in a different house
A suburban felon is our youth
A new position
Inefficiently boxed in
Cyclical living
There's nothing like getting up
Before dawn to start wasting your life
A lousy friend with crooked hands
A work of love in progress
Moral compass like burnt food
A work of love is finished