
This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Live From Hammersmith Palais) Fall Out Boy
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Live From Hammersmith Palais)" by Fall Out Boy. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.

[Spoken Intro: Patrick Stump]
Ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
[Verse 1: Patrick Stump]
I am an arms dealer fitting you with
Weapons in the form of words
And don't really care which side wins
Long as the room keeps singing, that's just the business I'm in, yeah
[Pre-Chorus: Patrick Stump]
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
I'm not a shoulder to cry on, but I digress
[Chorus: Patrick Stump]
I'm a leading man and the lies I weave are
Oh, so intricate, oh, so intricate
I'm a leading man and the lines I weave are
Oh, so intricate, oh, so intricate
[Verse 2: Patrick Stump]
I wrote the gospel on giving up
You're looking pretty sinking
But the real bombshells have already sunk
Primadonnas of the gutter
At night, we're painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like hips or cars, no, more like p-p-p-parties
Ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
[Verse 1: Patrick Stump]
I am an arms dealer fitting you with
Weapons in the form of words
And don't really care which side wins
Long as the room keeps singing, that's just the business I'm in, yeah
[Pre-Chorus: Patrick Stump]
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race
I'm not a shoulder to cry on, but I digress
[Chorus: Patrick Stump]
I'm a leading man and the lies I weave are
Oh, so intricate, oh, so intricate
I'm a leading man and the lines I weave are
Oh, so intricate, oh, so intricate
[Verse 2: Patrick Stump]
I wrote the gospel on giving up
You're looking pretty sinking
But the real bombshells have already sunk
Primadonnas of the gutter
At night, we're painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like hips or cars, no, more like p-p-p-parties
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