Cracks in the ice, so
late to the party... I
just wanted to say,
"you're doing ok."
Phone makes it's penance for me
but it's cracked facade
don't look a thing like god,
so wash it away,
go out all day.
Don't stop to say anything to
anyone you couldn't have saved before.

I've had enough of this pity fuck.
It's such a pity that the party is a round up.
He's in the back making eyes at bottles,
he's in the back making messes of your self esteem.

Another week, another month,
Another sick compromise, and waiting patiently for it.
We're so objective when we're pissing on their tombstones.
We're so complete when we let that shit linger on:

The boys have grown into men,
they'll get what's coming to them.
I'll wax with you now,
back of the house,
settling the ace and aftershocks.

Such a safe and subtle lie.

I fuck off, doom and gloom,
stuck in all of their bad news,
listen to her, get upset,
go outside, find a bodega cat,
alight to my room,
waiting for another boom,

wrapped up safe in summer vibes.

The boys have grown into men.
They'll get what's coming to them.
I'll wax with you now,
back of the house,
ready for an aged psychology.

Grip your twitter tight;
it'll keep you safe at night.
Got undressed alone, we couldn't know
if anything could save you.

Another day, another sun,
another dick calling someone yellow.
He's such a victim when he's making lists of migraines.
He's such a bull when he's fucking with your self esteem.

Another week, another month,
another sick, and we're getting it all over ourselves.

Such a safe and subtle lie.