Lyrics of 'When The Party Ends' by Saturday Looks Good To Me

Despite everything you've heard
You still get what you deserve
The world just can't find the words
To tell you what they think about you
The bus comes every morning
Under long lists of reasons
Everyday you're still sleeping
And everyday it leaves without you

Now you're talking on the phone with all your angry friends
It really doesn't matter what you say to them
Because when you hang up
Everything will feel just like a dream
But until you do
Let's keep it between you and me

Despite everything you heard
From the bumblebees and the mockingbirds
There still aren't any words
To all the songs they wrote about you
The bus comes early in the morning
You are forever sleeping
And even with your reasons
It's still gonna leave without you

Now I see you going out with all your useless friends
You know it doesn't matter what you do with them
Because when you come home
Everything will just have been a dream
But until you do
Let's keep it between you and me

I hear your conversations with your boring friends
It really doesn't matter what you're telling them
'Cause you'll be sleeping over when the party ends
And we'll wake up tomorrow and we'll start again
And anything outside of that is just pretend
And if you tell them different then you're lyin'

The things that people say don't make no difference
Now we can talk it over or just go to bed
Or we can go to all the places where the money's spent
And buy whatever new distraction that the suits invent
They know the demographic that we represent
Because they heard all of our secrets through the heating vent
So write another song about your discontent
And wax nostalgic for a time less turbulent
With metaphors like closet doors that won't open
And you can use your list of words that rhyme with 'opulent'
Now someone said that you should throw in 'malcontent'
Maybe somebody can tell us where the liquor went
And we can raise our glasses while they raise our rent
And search for a solution that's more permanent
But there isn't any doctor or a medicine
That's gonna make you feel less insignifigent
Another bunch of words that you can soon forget
Another bunch of crooks disguised as gentlemen
Now you wonder why the notes are always bruised and bent
You think that it's your song but it's your instrument
You want to turn invisible and try again
I'll kiss you in the kitchen and I'll count to ten
And then when you wake up
All of this will just have been a dream
But until you do
Let's keep it between you and me