A Healthy Way to Cope
Don't take photographs
Don't keep tickets
They're just artefacts of missing
I'm sipping on lost moments
I'm holding on to conversations
But I don't like the weather this way
Stalled on the hard shoulder
I'm old enough to know better
But better won't find me today
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
But it's giving me hope, giving me hope, goddamn
Don't paint pictures
God save your soul if you write another fucking song
It's vanity masked as vulnerability
I'm sipping on lost moments
I'm holding on to conversations
But I don't like the weather this way
Stalled on the hard shoulder
I'm old enough to know better
But better won't find me today
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
But it's giving me hope, giving me hope, goddamn
In the plains of the farmer saint, time will eat you alive
The rain and the calm of paint, and the turpentine
Four heads in a landscape, a dog's face upstairs
Good grief, good grief you can see the river from here
I'm holding on to my ambition, the hollow tone of solipsism
This is nothing I haven't known before
When coping is a part of the house from the walls to the door
I could leave but I'd have to grieve some more
Don't keep tickets
They're just artefacts of missing
I'm sipping on lost moments
I'm holding on to conversations
But I don't like the weather this way
Stalled on the hard shoulder
I'm old enough to know better
But better won't find me today
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
But it's giving me hope, giving me hope, goddamn
Don't paint pictures
God save your soul if you write another fucking song
It's vanity masked as vulnerability
I'm sipping on lost moments
I'm holding on to conversations
But I don't like the weather this way
Stalled on the hard shoulder
I'm old enough to know better
But better won't find me today
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
It's not a healthy way to cope, goddamn
But it's giving me hope, giving me hope, goddamn
In the plains of the farmer saint, time will eat you alive
The rain and the calm of paint, and the turpentine
Four heads in a landscape, a dog's face upstairs
Good grief, good grief you can see the river from here
I'm holding on to my ambition, the hollow tone of solipsism
This is nothing I haven't known before
When coping is a part of the house from the walls to the door
I could leave but I'd have to grieve some more
Credits
Writer(s): Andrew Pearson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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