wake in the morning and smell the cinnamon i can't believe you'd be my friend again i go to work and smell the chemicals the smell is sweet but i feel that this love is abysmal get home at 4, lay down on the floor alone in my room, i hear the boom.
i finally woke up and at best, this is a simple mess it's 9 on the dot, cut scene to a gathering space filled cups, erase the place to trace my face
and i i cant seem to unstick the sound from my ears
and i i cant seem to unstick the straight simple sounds from my ears
it's friday night cut scene to a gathering space filled cups
it's 9 on the dot cut scene to a gathering and fumble at every handshake
can't stop feeling it keep my eyes down can't stop hearing it i plug my ears in
you don't deserve shit entitled reveries appalling who restores spark the thoughts if there are means to make it