1. |
bleed out
02:10
|
|||
|
They come in, all your good friends.
Your disguise: a vacant grin.
You tried to hide it, but you just
caught their eyes instead.
They're so nice, have great advice.
You say it's fine, this is just life.
And you'd bleed out when you could
cauterize instead.
When you see your watch
and all the hours that await you,
you'd bleed out if you could.
|
||||
2. |
said and undone
02:50
|
|
||
|
Said and undone. And I'm sitting on the lawn, and they just keep talking on and on.
Feeling alone and, like, pretty fucking dumb because I just keep talking on and on.
Feelings, well, we've all got millions. But I've got millions, millions more.
Reach me just to deceive me and knock me right back on the floor.
Said and undone. And I'm drinking on the lawn, and they just keep talking on and on.
Reasons, sure, you've got your reasons. So what? So does everyone.
But read me just to deceive me, eat me up just for fun.
Said and undone. And I'm drinking on the lawn, and I just keep hating everyone.
Feeling alone and, like, pretty fucking dumb because I still keep talking on and on.
I'm going to make this so hard to win.
I'm going to make this so hard, again.
I'm going to make this so hard.
|
||||
3. |
||||
4. |
talk too much
02:18
|
|||
|
You talk too much.
You're cutting everyone off,
and we know you're a little drunk, but
your rant's too much.
Look, he means well enough.
Your hands in motion, you're all worked up.
I like you the best
Sunday mornings, under covers
when you're cold but still undressed
and there's no witness.
Could you shut up?
You're turning them all off,
trashing things you know nothing about.
And you think you wow,
but they've worked you out.
Dropping mentions, it's just pretentious.
I like you the best.
I want to see you, but it's hard--
you're hard to be seen with.
It's not mean if it's honest.
Lost some face but won some bets,
almost sober and regretting that you
smoked those cigarettes.
The night is over, but I haven't
started with you yet.
|
||||
5. |
relevant
01:37
|
|||
|
I'm not relevant
to anyone but me, anyone but me.
I don't need to be relevant
to anyone but me, anyone but me.
And they come so close
to not ignoring me.
And they come so close
to listening to what I say.
I need to find a new way,
find a new way,
for myself.
I leave the house,
but it's always for them,
the hope that they'll look at me.
And they come so close
to not hating me.
And you come so close
to not laughing at what I say.
|
||||
studentdriver New Orleans, Louisiana
never leave the house.
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