Washed Up

You became the ones you swore you'd hate
Being god of California not a minute late
Still thinking that you're heaven sent
And do whatever it costs to stay relevant
Beg, plead, and make your animal sounds
But no one cares they never come around
Think you're still the judge of treasure and trash
Better play your last hand better do it fast

Keep the decay going worse than you'll know
Beg, borrow, steal for where you want to go

Guess they thought they all had chips in our brains
And that everything was going to stay the same
Infinite repeat of the same old song
Forgetting they're a breath away from being gone



Credits
Writer(s): Will Black
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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