Sleep in, call out, we go to class but not to pass,
|
wake up to make up lines that etch their words to every seam,
|
you see the thing your missing is, I'm so strung out,
|
I'm so god damn addicted, that I panic to get these words out
|
|
Swing the mic around, you'll feel me in the crowd
|
Oh my god let's make a point to tear this place down
|
You can't help, we can't help, we can't help,
|
but get caught up in this madhouse
|
|
I've stayed up half a year to compose every breathe and every line,
|
I'm just killing time to tell a story of sleeping rare nights,
|
moonlit street fights, locked in my bedroom with prescriptions
|
to musicians that no doctor recommends
|
I'll die before I try to live a life
|
that's the slightest bit different
|
|
-----------------
|
Heart Attack Pact
|
| American Diary |
