Sitting down in a circle
Like some kind of misguided cult
We sit around and fall apart
Thinking about what we’ve done

Exchanging stories about our hometowns
We dish about the first time we got punched

Paint a star in a field
Like some kind of misguided cult
We’re moving up in the cold world
We’re gonna finally get even
Tonight

Exchanging stories about our hometowns
We dish about the first time we got high