[Intro – gang shout] Whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh This is not my face, but I still look dope though [Verse 1] Woke up on the floor of a motel room Neon buzzin’ like a radioactive moon Head still ringing from last night’s tour Checked the mirror and I wasn’t me no more There on the carpet like a thrift-store mask Was a brand-new smile from the wasteland’s past Guess the fallout did the rest of the work Now I’m borrowing the look of a very tired girl (uh… sorry about this) [Pre-Chorus] This can’t be right, but it fits too tight And my old ID burned up last night If the world’s gone wrong and the bar is low You just pick a face and go [Chorus] I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours This post-apocalyptic couture If I don’t look too close, I’m fine New face, same messed-up mind I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours It’s not like we’ve got malls anymore If I’m freaking you out, I swear I’m pure Just a guy with a secondhand cure [Verse 2] Hit the street and the crew went pale “Ken, buddy, something’s off with your… veil.” I said, “Long story, blame the core meltdown, But I’ve never had cheekbones this well-defined ‘til now.” Radiation made the whole town shed Some folks lost hair, some folks saw red Me? I got stuck with a borrowed grin Kinda cursed, kinda fashion, kinda thick, kinda thin [Pre-Chorus] Yeah, I know it’s wrong, yeah, I know it’s weird But at least my ugly mug disappeared If the world’s on fire and the line is blurred You just rock what you got, even if it’s absurd [Chorus] I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours Stitched-up smile and improvised decor If the end of the world’s the dress code now Guess I’ll take a bow and hope you don’t ask how I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours Don’t look too long, you’ll see the seams, I’m sure If I’m creepin’ you out, I swear I’m kind Just a borrowed face on a borrowed time [Bridge – half spoken, half sung] Look, I didn’t ask for this makeover I just woke up like a budget hangover joker You can judge me, that’s okay You’ve seen worse things out here anyway There’s zombies at the door, cults in the rain You’re really hung up on my choice of face? Underneath the mask, I’m still that guy Who reads sad poetry to a blood-red sky (…and occasionally screams on the radio) [Breakdown – big pop-punk “whoa-oh”s] Whoa-oh, I know it’s not my own Whoa-oh, but it’s better than alone Whoa-oh, in a world this torn You take what you can get to feel reborn [Final Chorus] I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours Call it wasteland chic folklore If the wildfire moon is my bathroom light I’ll contour this chaos and own the night I’m feeling good in my skin… or yours Just laugh it off, that’s what humor’s for If the universe cares, it hasn’t sworn So I’ll wear what I’ve got ‘till we find a new dawn [Outro – spoken, deadpan over last chord] “Relax… it’s just a phase.” “…literally.”
