Tekster: Kind Of Like Spitting. $100 Room. Sex Ruins Everything.

First impressions of the next day: a hornet repeating its sting.
Worn out, woke up. Pull out, pull up you think...
Is it always gonna end this way?
Scratching names off the phone list.
Is it what you take or what we give away?
That makes your heart feel less homeless?
You've only pushed the splinter deeper in.
Another hook in your lip,
losing whatever war you've been trying to win.
A million notebooks just like yours, full of weed and whine.
You're a character in everybody else's short film.
You didn't have to be one in your own life.
You've only pushed the splinter deeper in,
losing whatever war you've been trying to win.
Rapid fire. Gun for hire. I hope he blows your smile away