Well, I must renew my driver's license at my local DMV
And I'll fidget in the queue and practice faces for my new ID
But when I bestow this badge upon the burly bouncer blocking me
Will I seem to be a shrill impostor, transplant to this territory
Well, I must reserve a new cell number with my local area code
But who of my former friends and family will forget to fix their phone
If you do reach out, I beg you, don't take umbrage with the busy tone
Let's trade voicemails, empty promises of reconciliation
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll read the local news, make posters for a picket line
Give me five good years, I'll be the one to volunteer
I'll look up from my good turn and know I left the past behind
Well, the flag's up on my mailbox for the first time since the autumn move
And the greeting card has signatures but no handwritten platitude
Would it kill you to pretend a little? What did you think I'd assume
Maybe "it's the thought that counts" will be my epitaph, my living tomb
What options did I have that you don't
When will you take your foot off my throat
Tell Uncle Bob to lose this number
Don't call me till he's six feet under
I live here now; I cut my lawn
I don't care what's been going on
Back home at school board meetings
Or who's cheating
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll write the local news and gently toe the party line
Give me eighteen years, I'll be the one who shouts and jeers
I'll look up from my good works and know I left the past behind
I'm a citizen without next of kin
So I'll watch the daily news, I'll meditate on dollar signs
Would it be a sin for a taxpaying citizen
To outlive old narratives, repudiate them and revise
autofictions - citizen Lyrics
autofictions - citizen Lyrics
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Well, I must renew my driver's license at my local DMV
And I'll fidget in the queue and practice faces for my new ID
But when I bestow this badge upon the burly bouncer blocking me
Will I seem to be a shrill impostor, transplant to this territory
Well, I must reserve a new cell number with my local area code
But who of my former friends and family will forget to fix their phone
If you do reach out, I beg you, don't take umbrage with the busy tone
Let's trade voicemails, empty promises of reconciliation
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll read the local news, make posters for a picket line
Give me five good years, I'll be the one to volunteer
I'll look up from my good turn and know I left the past behind
Well, the flag's up on my mailbox for the first time since the autumn move
And the greeting card has signatures but no handwritten platitude
Would it kill you to pretend a little? What did you think I'd assume
Maybe "it's the thought that counts" will be my epitaph, my living tomb
What options did I have that you don't
When will you take your foot off my throat
Tell Uncle Bob to lose this number
Don't call me till he's six feet under
I live here now; I cut my lawn
I don't care what's been going on
Back home at school board meetings
Or who's cheating
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll write the local news and gently toe the party line
Give me eighteen years, I'll be the one who shouts and jeers
I'll look up from my good works and know I left the past behind
I'm a citizen without next of kin
So I'll watch the daily news, I'll meditate on dollar signs
Would it be a sin for a taxpaying citizen
To outlive old narratives, repudiate them and revise
And I'll fidget in the queue and practice faces for my new ID
But when I bestow this badge upon the burly bouncer blocking me
Will I seem to be a shrill impostor, transplant to this territory
Well, I must reserve a new cell number with my local area code
But who of my former friends and family will forget to fix their phone
If you do reach out, I beg you, don't take umbrage with the busy tone
Let's trade voicemails, empty promises of reconciliation
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll read the local news, make posters for a picket line
Give me five good years, I'll be the one to volunteer
I'll look up from my good turn and know I left the past behind
Well, the flag's up on my mailbox for the first time since the autumn move
And the greeting card has signatures but no handwritten platitude
Would it kill you to pretend a little? What did you think I'd assume
Maybe "it's the thought that counts" will be my epitaph, my living tomb
What options did I have that you don't
When will you take your foot off my throat
Tell Uncle Bob to lose this number
Don't call me till he's six feet under
I live here now; I cut my lawn
I don't care what's been going on
Back home at school board meetings
Or who's cheating
I'm a citizen in the state I'm in
So I'll write the local news and gently toe the party line
Give me eighteen years, I'll be the one who shouts and jeers
I'll look up from my good works and know I left the past behind
I'm a citizen without next of kin
So I'll watch the daily news, I'll meditate on dollar signs
Would it be a sin for a taxpaying citizen
To outlive old narratives, repudiate them and revise
Writer: Josh Davidoff
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid