Tim Barry - Fine Foods Market lyrics
[Tim Barry - Fine Foods Market lyrics]
The lottery line at Fine Foods
Is three blocks long and Hasan's selling PBR
To hipsters with ironic mustaches
Who most definitely once were punk
But now wear flannel
And scream over bar chords
On acoustic guitars
The park's full of scum fucks
Oggles and train kids
Busking and flying signs for
Sparks and beast ice
But not food for their dogs
Not laundromats to clean their clothes
They don't even shower but that's how it goes
And I don't care much either way
Cause when their my age they'll all own SAABS
Vacation homes with pending divorce
Memberships at the golf course but, I do not
Hell no i do not
You see I grew up in a traffic jam
A cul-de-sac all-American
With tapered jeans and leather
Jackets and Nike high-tops
A hair farmer from the suburbs
A drunk speed metal drummer
Now how the hell did I end up
In a Realtree camo and Carharts
It's safe to say that I lost grip
Oh look, there goes another hipster kid
In neon on a track bike paying
A school to learn art a buy green vegetarian
A fashion Icon charlatan
At the bar buying rounds
On his mother's credit card
And I don't care much either way
Cause when they're my age
They'll all own SAABS
Vacation homes with pending divorce
Memberships at the golf course but, I do not
Hell no no I do not
Is three blocks long and Hasan's selling PBR
To hipsters with ironic mustaches
Who most definitely once were punk
But now wear flannel
And scream over bar chords
On acoustic guitars
The park's full of scum fucks
Oggles and train kids
Busking and flying signs for
Sparks and beast ice
But not food for their dogs
Not laundromats to clean their clothes
They don't even shower but that's how it goes
And I don't care much either way
Cause when their my age they'll all own SAABS
Vacation homes with pending divorce
Memberships at the golf course but, I do not
Hell no i do not
You see I grew up in a traffic jam
A cul-de-sac all-American
With tapered jeans and leather
Jackets and Nike high-tops
A hair farmer from the suburbs
A drunk speed metal drummer
Now how the hell did I end up
In a Realtree camo and Carharts
It's safe to say that I lost grip
Oh look, there goes another hipster kid
In neon on a track bike paying
A school to learn art a buy green vegetarian
A fashion Icon charlatan
At the bar buying rounds
On his mother's credit card
And I don't care much either way
Cause when they're my age
They'll all own SAABS
Vacation homes with pending divorce
Memberships at the golf course but, I do not
Hell no no I do not