I heard the clathrate gun go off I saw dead birds falling out of the sky When my brave new world of pocket slot machines Collapsed on its own lie I guessed I'd finally send this letter I couldn't help it but to preach Lived in fear and loathing in Midwest cities And I'm impossible to reach But in the magic of my age It's hard to imagine one outcome as best They called yours Generation Z So you're just scared to wonder What comes next? When all your smog gets lifted When all gets said and done It'll be just like Saint Rob always taught me You're only a new band once Blank stare at bubbles flowing From All Clad pots Like ice floes from the arctic As I listen to new music Desperate for that old catharsis But there's always too much now To think about for me Or at least for my taste And my sense of youthful opportunity I watched it swimming down your drain Swimming down your drain