Don't Tell Me Stupid, Don't Show Me Fuck You

I can't stand the cold, it cuts to the bone And you can't wear good intentions What's plan B for mice and men When your best laid plans have shit the bed? We'll survive on the lies we're fed Because you can't eat promises Will we even live to see the end? Posters and peeling paint The walls, the floors they all seem the same Any difference feels insignificant Will we even live to see the end? It's an arrangement that tends to disappoint We're not mis-informed we just miss the point The silence grows, turn on the stereo Anything to break the tension