Coming at me
Got hipsters guarding your body
There's no kingdom
Just a moat and some nobodies
Ahhh 'pity fuck the sick girl'
I'm not mad its just a mad world
Dollar days, french toast
Slip on shoes you mean the most
Killing myself
so im getting laid like a highschool quarterback
I wear painter denim
Got an aerosole mind
So its not my fault my feelings are plastic and crystalized
This is a confessional
I am not terrestrial
This is not my home planet
I don't care
You can have it
Sitting here lobbing tear gas
Riot mob trying to make these tears last
Fuck marry kill
That's not a question
I'm trying to keep still
but i quake
and sure of the years ive got more gray
but im still dorian
which means some of the bottles im pouring
from are more important
i burn hotter than you
(its not a metaphor)
my hearts like a stallion
people seem to just like it more broken