Mood

And I'm just in the loop
I just need the truth
I just need someone to grab my waist and pull me through
I need something to do
I'm crashing through the roof
The damage that I'm doing it's just fucking up my mood

And I'm not in the mood
Welcome to my tomb
And I'm not in the mood
I'm not in the mood
I'm not in the mood
Yeah
I just want to view
Yah
Winners always lose
Yeah
Highway singing blues, yeah

I been feeling anxious
Walking in this snakepit
That came with
The venom and the critical persuasion
Cutting circulation
Start the simulation
I been waiting patient
I'm stable in my station
I'm in the riverboat
Watch the river flow
I flip the channel, ain't a TV show
I see what you don't know
Like how'd the curtains close
So keep the curtains closed
I got this freedom in my soul, like feed 'em more
I need to believe it, but I've been begging for some more
I think I'll be leaving right through this broken, open door
I know it's misleading but I can't take these brittle thorns
I know it's misleading but I can battle through the storm
I can battle through the storm
I don't need these brittle thorns
I can battle through the storm
I run through different universes, parallel to me
It's something I can't write down in these verses
Only time will tell, if I can rid myself of all these curses
Poisoning myself on purpose
Pretty sure I'm fiction, but the papers blank and I've been searching
For some words
To better describe
How I'm feeling inside
Like I'm petrified
Or how I'm running dry
The only way I functions' if I'm getting high

I'm not in the mood
Yeah
I just want to view
Yah
Winners always lose
Yeah
Highway singing blues, yeah
And I'm not in the mood
Welcome to my tomb
And I'm not in the mood
And I'm not in the mood

Help me out
Can't tell me why
Dabbled, all in
Don't tell a lie
Help me out
Can't tell me why
Dabbled, all in
Don't tell a lie
Closed caption funeral
In my closed casket, beautiful
Most action, faux facts
And rose past, was suitable
Do not show no feeling now
Broken home, we been around
Choken hold n' rosen Gold
On photos that vignetted brown
Lightwork, unmoveable
And this might hurt
Improving the soul
Fight first, then we thinking about it
Deciphered with some simple accounting
Now would it be better to talk less, than to be caught in another's arousal
No
I don't really gotta reason, no
Do not call me for your council
I don't really gotta hate for Yah
I'm just like my father, wait for it
Present, but I think I'm late for it
I just gotta leave, get a J for it
Put up with the funds, pay foreign
And I put up with the van, they snoring
But I do it for the fans, rain pouring
Standing on the pavement
Standing now we made it



Credits
Writer(s): Thomas Young
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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