I was a babyface born for the eighties

In a Reagan-era white-flight run

Head in my hands under my desk

Lost in translation

With a penchant for devotion

And a vise-grip on my heart

No, I don't, I don’t belong here

No, I don't, I don't belong

I was a blue-eyed Amtrak baby

Born to run and born too soon

With a faulty moral compass here

That lead me straight to you

With a shotgun superstition

A heel turn for all time

No, I don’t, I don't belong here

No, I don't, I don't belong, I don't belong

Replaced upon arrival just in time to watch your buildings crash and burn

No, I don't, I don't belong here

No, I don't, I don’t belong

I don’t belong here, no, I don't belong here