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lirik lagu i just want to sell out my funeral – wonder years

clear the apartment. i plan on collapsing and i could have sworn i heard a car door slam.
i’m stuck at the corner of grinding teeth and stomach acid, all alone under a soft rain and streetlamp.
i spent my life weighed down by a stone heart, drowning in irony and settling
for anything.
somewhere down the line all the wiring went faulty.
i’m scared sh-tless of failure and i’m staring out at where i wanna be.
i just want to sell out my funeral. i just want to be enough for everyone.
i just want to sell out my funeral. know that i fought until the lights were gone.
i’m walking through harbors and churchyards. i felt the snow crack under my feet.
i’ll stay thankful for mild winters, for every shot i got at anything.
i’ll blame the way that i was brought up or the flaws that i was born with or the mistakes that i’ve made.
they’re all just f-cking excuses.
bury me in the memories of my friends and family.
i just need to know that they were proud of me. oh, we all wanna know.
where’d the american dream go? did you give up and go home? am i here alone?
oh, when the credits roll, i’ll watch as the screen glows; the moments when i choked, all the fears that i’ve outgrown—at least i hope so.
i was just happy to be a contender. i was just aching for anything.
and i used to have such steady hands but now i can’t keep them from shaking.
i’m sorry i… i’m sorry i don’t laugh at the right times.
is this what it feels like with my wings clipped? i’m awkward and nervous.
i’m awkward and nervous but i was kind of hoping you’d stay. i need you to stay.
oh, god, could you stay? i need you to stay. i need you to stay. i need you.
if i’m in an airport and you’re in a hospital bed, then, what kind of man does that make me? what kind of man does that make me?
i know how it feels to be at war with a world that never loved me.
all we had were hand me-downs. all we had was good will.
two blackbirds on a highway sign are laughing at me here with my wings clipped.
i’m staring up at the sky but the bombs keep f-cking falling.
there’s no devil on my shoulder; he’s got a rocking chair on my front porch but i won’t let him in.
no, i won’t let him in. ’cause i’m sick of seeing ghosts and i know how it’s all gonna end.
there’s no triumph waiting. there’s no sunset to ride off in.
we all want to be great men and there’s nothing romantic about it.
i just want to know that i did all i could with what i was given.

- wonder years

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