Our Sunday Affairs - Curbing Your Enthusiasm | Текст песни

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• Our Sunday Affairs
• Curbing Your Enthusiasm

We were born here
We were born here

Why don't you remember
Sprouting in April under terrible weather?
I searched for god but I found myself
Rotting away inside an empty house

Everyone's gone or everyone's going
To far off lands inside steel cities
I put it off but it's not helping
Everyone here is so fucking busy

Everything's changed or everything's changing
I'd cut my hair but it won't stop growing
I shout at myself about keeping my chin up
My thoughts splinter and spill all of my guts

Wasted this youth in tree tops with alcohol
I'm not my father, I won't be held responsible

How could I ever call this home?
The air's too dry and the ground's too cold
I'm still too stupid to not dig holes
And I can't split their thoughts from my own

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