Don't fuck up, shithead.
Your production is countering.
Your feelings are by-products.
You're not supposed to be tired.
It doesn't have to be manufactured.
Don't lecture me about mistakes and regret.
Sometimes I just have to kiss your lips while drunk.
The peril of those pearls around your neck.
I'll ravage this dumpster to prove my commitment to the hippies.
Because without proof, you don't believe.
It's all good.
I'm the same way.
Mine eyes are getting fogged up from this interrogation.
They're hazy and bloodshot from late night coke binges.
But I'll never sleep, I'll never suffocate for eight hours.
Dishonesty must be trampled.
The hard sell is hardly convincing me.
My wallet is barren, future isn't so bright either.
This is liberation.
I'll shatter every last illusion while thinking.
Lately, I've only been thinking of you.
We're lying beside each other.
I propose my soul to yours.
Don't tear up, babe.
This is all I got.