It’s Saturday night at the dead-end mall Everyone’s bored, I’m ten feet tall Walk past the food court, smell the fries Then I hear pop-punk yelling from inside Black walls, band tees, chains on chains Wallet screaming but my heart says “pay” I said “I’m just here to kill some time” Now I’m buying socks with skulls on ‘em, fine Mom said “this is just a phase” Joke’s on her, I get paid this way Hot Topic, take my money again Selling teenage angst to grown-ass men Stud belt dreams, clearance rack kings Buy two, regret nothing Hot Topic, yeah I never grew out Just learned how to check out faster now Used to sneak in after school Now it’s anime kids and corporate rules Same loud songs, different bands Still blasting feelings at full demand They rebranded chaos, put it on a tee And somehow it still feels like therapy Hot Topic, soundtrack of my youth Mall-core memories, black nail polish truth If growing up means beige and calm Then crank the volume, pull the alarm Food court fight Emo night Still not okay But the shirt’s half-price Hot Topic, don’t you ever change Still selling rebellion by the exchange From Warped Tour teens to tired adults You raised a generation with studs and belts Dead mall lights, same old song I said I’d “just look”—I was wrong