Cold War

I was a babyface born for the eighties
In a Reagan-era white-flight run
Head in my hands under my desk
Lost in translation
With a penchant for devotion
And a vise-grip on my heart

No, I don't, I don’t belong here
No, I don't, I don't belong

I was a blue-eyed Amtrak baby
Born to run and born too soon
With a faulty moral compass here
That lead me straight to you
With a shotgun superstition
A heel turn for all time

No, I don’t, I don't belong here
No, I don't, I don't belong, I don't belong

Replaced upon arrival just in time to watch your buildings crash and burn

No, I don't, I don't belong here
No, I don't, I don’t belong
I don’t belong here, no, I don't belong here