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1. |
All In
01:44
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My teeth are rotting each second I spend in this coffin I call my apartment.
Bright Eyes, sad lullabies, lies we tell ourselves to try and set ourselves apart
Meant more to me than reality in 2017, so I ate a thousand seeds and tripped balls so diseased
Nearly jumped but thought better
Left that past self for dead near the cliffside,
And then hitched a ride
And I'm shooting for California, but my gun's pointed the wrong way.
And with my luck I'm sure I'll miss and blow off half my face.
You either kill yourself or get killed, yeah we all die someday.
If I'm sticking around I'm living my way
My will's been tested extensively yet the ehrlich always comes out pink and
I may romanticize drugs that keep my alive but these poly relationships stink
And it's been apparent for years that I'm the type to steer clear of just ask anyone who's known me
But I can't complain so many girls let me into their brain, I do okay
And I'm shooting for Arizona, but I can't find a clean rig
And I'm melting this permastone, slowly but surely I will dig
Myself out of this grave I've been dying in
Go big or go homeless
I came here to win
I've got nothing left to lose so let's go all in
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2. |
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[Verse 1]
I was a stoner until I turned plant and pill head
But before someone kick-started my cripple career, I was straightedge
And everyone's quick to forget you when you're just a wreck
Before we disappear let's make some noise they won't forget
[Chorus 1]
And I'll smoke myself to death
Or at least, I'll smoke myself to sleep.
I fall asleep smoking to wake up on fire, because that might get me out of this bed for a while
As they drive past, with my bag on my shoulder I can't help but smile through the pain.
I'm sleeping in the ditch tonight, but it's alright.
Because ditch weed is my kind of lullaby
[Verse 2]
I was sober all morning till I woke up this afternoon
And before life left me cynical and bitter you know I was shooting for the moon
But now I'm shooting for that peace, when that air mattress I'm dying on starts to leak soon
I'm spastic, the plastic offgassing, hours passing, the propane torch blasting bafoon.
[Chorus 2]
And I'll smoke myself to death
70s, style like rheuzus monkeys
Turkey bags, fish pump, kanapinis pound, I will achieve, asphyxiation, and release.
As the bag fills, last exit to home, I am waving goodbye, and I might be sleeping in for good tonight, and all I See's white, baby ditch weed is my kind of lullaby,
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Lost In The Sauce Oneonta, New York
Hyperalgesic asshole. Bum notes and dumb quotes.
September 20th, 2020
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