I'd Rather Be With Them - 7 Layers Session

Stale tongues, the words have gone
And all we've left is smoky spit and heavy lungs
And I don't want to talk it through
When my head hurts and I hate you

So make me throw up
I know that you will
And wake up my mother and tell her I'm ill
It's all coming out now, black, brown
Wine and bile

Salty eyes and frothy lips
Your teeth are bared and champing at the fucking bit
Leaning on the window
When you point down and you let go

And say "look at the people
Crawling like insects
All over the pavement"
I'd rather be with them
'Cause I just hate this room, it smells like you

Yeah, yeah
Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh
Yeah, yeah
Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh

Leave it on, I like this song
And when it ends, you really must be getting on
And the needle clicks after an hour
And you look back and the door slams

I'm so fucking heartless
I can't even cry
I've opened my body, it's hollow inside
So ring up my parents
And tell them I'm dead
And say how you got me
And fucked with my head
And I just hate your hair
And the clothes you wear
And I just love your hair
And the clothes you wear

Yeah, yeah
Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh
Yeah, yeah
Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh