Trash Fire

Can I deduce yr aversion for sadness?
Would that explain yr compulsion for madness?
So pious yet the luxury of lottery
Could you defend yrself without yr digital mask on?

Calling out yr bullshit
No flesh on yr pulpit
Houdini'd out of the frame
Swing harder from the trapeze of the crook and the lame

Whiskey tango foxtrot
Clap back taste smoke

Reality has risen to my level of distress
Anxiety gold standard mother nature's success
My bitter yr sweet a fucking negative flip
Another bad day's coming, got you reaching for the zip

I am singing to your god...

No-value or depth, yo!
Cannot pull my face up from the floor, bore
My north will always be yr south
I would pay to jam the facts back into yr motherfucking mouth

Train wreck breakneck
Cut throat scapegoat

I am singing to your god...



Credits
Writer(s): Scott Andrews
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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