Baby, innocent one day gonna be decadent.
Prom queen, Miss America, in the backseat, in a pair of cuffs.
Sixteen little runaways from the five-o, it got away.
From a small town with no scene,
Looking for a shot on the big street.

Expectations,
Go to hell.
Expectations,
Go to hell.

Not so innocent, on the street hustling.
Never be Miss America in the backseat of a stolen car.
Crashing with a deadbeat, living large on a love seat.
In a small town, no scene,
Turns out it was nothing but a pipe dream.

Expectations,
Go to hell.
Expectations,
Go to hell.

Rich girl, wannabe,
Bought a quick pick for the lottery.
Watching TV with her boyfriend,
Fell asleep, left the ticket on the nightstand.
He stayed awake to see the ball drop,
Turned it way down, she never woke up.
Grabbed the keys to her car and the back lock,
Threw a shot of Jack back, left with the jackpot.

Expectations,
Go to hell.
(Prom queen, Miss America, in the backseat in America.)
Expectations,
Go to hell.
(Never be Miss America in the backseat in America.)