All Medicated Geniuses by Pretty Girls Make Graves

There's the kid with the golden arm He admits to the forest fire That he started up from a lack of Something better going on Tell your friends it's a four alarm Just a smoke screen, we're all liars Better to stew in discontent That to admit we're wrong

All motivations out to see Our ideas die so quickly

This town has good hearts Bad blood, emotional scars Never getting to say What you really want to say

We all lie so well

If misery loves company And you seem to sleep So much more soundly To the song of other people's Failures:.

Doctor, do you have a remedy? This is not alright by me Do you think that you have the trick? For a city that's so spent and sick?

We all lie so well