Up Up Done Done - Into It. Over It.

My feet are sore and my throat is hoarse

From stomping and singing through every single chorus

I patiently grew my beard out for this occasion

Paying some sort of tribute with bated anticipation for your last show

You might insist that the name is bad

But I’m not sure that we knew what we had

Resting in a software code and a place where the bar’s been set

With you and me trying to sing a lyric that goes, «What the crap!»

But it never works

But, you don’t need any of us tonight

You don’t need any of us tonight

You don’t need us to call it quits

But, you don’t need any of us tonight

My feet are sore and my throat is hoarse

I stomped and sang all through every single chorus

(That one felt the best

Yeah, whatever)