fixing your hair in a dull lit bathroomnnthe county fair it left too soonnnand now you nights are cold and slownnthe days just gonnon and on and sometimes i miss younnbut infamy infamynnyou've got infamy and whats left nnof all those empty threatsnnhold tight your and when you get back to shorenni will be raising your flagnnnnin the summer heat you couldnt beat the veiw from the ridesnntheres nothing to do aside from the standingnnand harsh demanding tonesnnof the ticket tackers you knewnnintention intetion did i mention all thoughts of your freindsnnif i did it then i will do it againnnbut this time with more feelingnnon the table you werent able nnto keep a straight face for longnnand as you feel oh i could jus tell thatnnyou didn't enjoy this songnnnni pulled up my jacket, you stood in your skirtnnthe cordory backpack was, still in the dirst