Last Of The Analog Kids

I woke up to static on a box TV Saturday cartoons were a sacred thing Bowl full of sugar and a plastic prize Cereal dust in our sleepy eyes Mom on the phone with the curly cord Dad read news while we pressed fast forward Outside bikes on the neighbor's lawn If your board's out front then you weren't gone Street light rolls We drank hose water, never thought twice Sunburn noses and cheap blue ice No blue check marks, no online class from the house we're the last of the analog kids raised on big hair louder rips push pop smelting on a summer curb learn more from scars than we did from words smoke filled diners mall arcade nights record breakers racing under kitchen lights before the wi-fi before the grids we were chaos on big wheels last of the analog Follin' alleys with the glow stick lanes, hair spray clouds and rock band flames. Mom's got perms, Dad's denim on, the jukebox been on. So that dust don't touch the console, it'll break the trust. D.I. Joe on a bedroom floor, barbie Steve crashing through his front door. Shopping malls were social feeds, food court thrones and teenage dreams. We passed notes instead of typing screens, circle yes or no for what love means. We had one house, phone too long, rings if you missed. Last of the Analog Kids We learned have it easy and we learned two hearts Our rent go up in our parents' yards We were latchkey hearts with a house key chain Figured out life on a BMX frame Now we're nine to five with our own small crew Trying to raise them with a little bit of truth Go outside, get dirty fall You won't find life in a screenette small We're the last of the analog kids VHS dreams and cusset hits Push pops, pop rocks, GI Joe fists Big hair bands on the bedroom list Drank the garden hose like VIPs Lived 10 lives on scraped up knees Before the pings, before the grids We were wild and untransmitted Last up the analogs We still remember this Every lost arcade and kiss If you grew up where the street lights did You're forever in the pit with us Last of the analog kids Last of the analog Kids Raised On Big Hair Louder Riffs Push Pops Melting On A Summer Curb Learned More From Scars Than We Did From Words Smoke Fill Diners Mark A Night Breaker Breakers Racing Under Kitchen Lights Before The Wifi Before The Grids We Were A Chaos