he was the poster child of miserable he was in love with colored boy no chance for hope in a land of servitude and now the ghosts of alexandria hang in the halls like the boys on the oak to remind us that we re only 13 knots away from repeating our mistakes no one can see on the inside no one can hear on the outside no one will speak the name to blame the dead sing it s not over she was the poster child of ritual she was in love with the u s a she was from some place but she could not tell us where and now the ghosts of alexandria labor the field like amber waves of grain to remind us that we are only a minimum wage away a bowl of rice a day from repeating our mistakes it s not over no one can see on the inside no one can hear on the outside no one will speak the name to blame the dead sing and we watched the summer turn to the autumn of glory
['pop punk', 'punk', 'skate punk']