Expo '87 Akkorde von
Fred Thomas
Fred Thomas

N/A
Tonart: C# minor
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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I get so
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hung up high on expectations
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I get so sick at restaurants and
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on family vacations
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And I leave every situation in
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variably feeling dumb
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But you've got to be
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a little bit dumb
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Otherwise you never get anything
done
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And you've gotta be kinda hit
Otherwise you spend your time smiling
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entirely too much
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Wincing while you're waiting
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For that next soft punch
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So give up, fuck up,
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stay out
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Cause no one's keeping score now
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This punishment, it doesn't fit
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But fuck it, we've got it
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You still know what all
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the drop- outs know
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And anybody who's ever
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lost a tooth
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It doesn't bring you any closer to the truth,
But you do start to recognize things
So can you keep your firm belief
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in those ill- fitting jeans,
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A burning hatred of the home team and
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everything that it means
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Will you go with the mongrels?
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The deciders?
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The jelly legs and anxious elbow
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s of the awkward lovers?
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The unsightly? The sickly?
The migraines?
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Let's puke up the foam from this
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bottle of champagne
Let's ruin this fucking wedding!
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All these nights are only worth forgetting
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This conversation; we're
so above it.
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Let's bury it
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Let's dead that
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shit!
Outro 1
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