I'm not shit, I'm champagne
Let's all go home, kill ourselves and our radios
Where's my head? This isn't mine
Nobody loves a thing, everyone's fucking crazy
In control, it's not my fault
They'll be sorry once I skin them
Scared to life, a painless death
Make sure she knows I love her, right before she floats away
I can't hear you, screams too loud
All my ideas become perfect little blank spots
Fold me in, tucked away
I'm starting to think I never learn what I need to learn
All things pass, we brew skin
Holding on to things that we shouldn't be allowed to keep
Make them proud, drenched in guilt
Call me when the miracle reduces to coincidence

Hay Fever