wake in the morning and smell the cinnamon
i can't believe you'd be my friend again
i go to work and smell the chemicals
the smell is sweet but i feel that this love is abysmal
get home at 4, lay down on the floor
alone in my room, i hear the boom.
i finally woke up
and at best, this is a simple mess
it's 9 on the dot, cut scene to a gathering
space filled cups, erase the place to trace my face
and i
i cant seem to unstick the sound
from my ears
and i
i cant seem to unstick the straight simple sounds
from my ears
it's friday night
cut scene to a gathering
space filled cups
it's 9 on the dot
cut scene to a gathering
and fumble at every handshake
can't stop feeling it
keep my eyes down
can't stop hearing it
i plug my ears in
you don't deserve shit
entitled reveries
appalling who restores
spark the thoughts if there are means to make it