Art Box
Lay down
Ignore the voice in your head
Forget the existential dread
It's all a rouse
And it was made up by you
And you know it
And you won't forget it
But you'll never say it
Cash out
On a future so polluted clean air is sold as art
And ability to buy increases if you're colorblind
Thank God all wardrobes come with instructions
I'm in space
Why am I so close to your face
Oh, what is space?
Please just can I
Touch your face
Lay down
Ignore the voice in your head
Forget the existential dread
It's all a rouse
And it was made up by you
And you know it
And you won't forget it
But you'll never say it
Cash out
On a future so polluted clean air is sold as art
And ability to buy increases if you're colorblind
But your wardrobe didn't come with instructions
Why lay in grass
When I could be beating your ass
Oh, get off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Why lay in grass
When I should be beating your ass
Oh, get the fuck off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Uh
I'm in space
Why am I so close to your face
Oh, what is space
Please just can I
Touch your face
Why lay in grass
When I should be beating your ass
Oh, get the fuck off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Ignore the voice in your head
Forget the existential dread
It's all a rouse
And it was made up by you
And you know it
And you won't forget it
But you'll never say it
Cash out
On a future so polluted clean air is sold as art
And ability to buy increases if you're colorblind
Thank God all wardrobes come with instructions
I'm in space
Why am I so close to your face
Oh, what is space?
Please just can I
Touch your face
Lay down
Ignore the voice in your head
Forget the existential dread
It's all a rouse
And it was made up by you
And you know it
And you won't forget it
But you'll never say it
Cash out
On a future so polluted clean air is sold as art
And ability to buy increases if you're colorblind
But your wardrobe didn't come with instructions
Why lay in grass
When I could be beating your ass
Oh, get off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Why lay in grass
When I should be beating your ass
Oh, get the fuck off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Uh
I'm in space
Why am I so close to your face
Oh, what is space
Please just can I
Touch your face
Why lay in grass
When I should be beating your ass
Oh, get the fuck off my lawn
We're all going to Hell anyway
Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Holt
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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