Quarter Century Crisis
Ten o'clock, piss drunk, better drink some water
Know tomorrow morning there'll be hell to pay
Come midnight I'm another year older, so pour a shot of whiskey I've got something to say
As I'm getting older there are angels on my shoulder, nagging all day long saying give up your ways
But tonight were going crazy, hard enough that somehow maybe
I can silence all their voices and forget my own age
Happy birthday I'm a year older today
Should I celebrate or start to dig my grave
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
The clocks, gotta start, another day of grinding
Nursing a hangover and I'm feeling the pain
Back to the real world, heads still in a whirl
Gotta go get money at the job that I hate
Standing in the mirror, my fates looking pretty clear, as my eyes show circles, and my hair starts to grey
And although life is getting harder, I'm not getting any smarter, as I live this life of misery day after day
Happy birthday I'm a year older today
Should I celebrate or start to dig my grave
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
Know tomorrow morning there'll be hell to pay
Come midnight I'm another year older, so pour a shot of whiskey I've got something to say
As I'm getting older there are angels on my shoulder, nagging all day long saying give up your ways
But tonight were going crazy, hard enough that somehow maybe
I can silence all their voices and forget my own age
Happy birthday I'm a year older today
Should I celebrate or start to dig my grave
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
The clocks, gotta start, another day of grinding
Nursing a hangover and I'm feeling the pain
Back to the real world, heads still in a whirl
Gotta go get money at the job that I hate
Standing in the mirror, my fates looking pretty clear, as my eyes show circles, and my hair starts to grey
And although life is getting harder, I'm not getting any smarter, as I live this life of misery day after day
Happy birthday I'm a year older today
Should I celebrate or start to dig my grave
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
My quarter century crisis
There's got, to be
More rhyme or reason to life than this
Someone, help me
Credits
Writer(s): Chaise Wilson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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