This room is full of snake oil salesmen
It feels like we've been here for weeks
Talk might be cheap
But I don't buy a single fucking word
From these backstabbing thieves
I'll walk miles and miles and miles before I sleep
A week full of Mondays
Months of weeks
Frontal lobotomy to feel the ease
But every inch of hope
Just extends the rope
And I fall
You'll never get out of this world alive
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2018 • Old Money / New Lows
2018 • Old Money / New Lows
2018 • Old Money / New Lows
2018 • Old Money / New Lows
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken
2014 • the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken