Pop Punk Sh!t

I'll have your money by Friday
If you can wait a day or two
If you need it now, well I'm sorry
Trust me, I need it too
Yeah

A bad day, a bad month, a bad year could go by
The worst is done, the voice is gone, you made it out alive

Five am in the fucking morning
Should probably try to sleep, but I'll probably stay up
Deprivation with a wicked migraine
Pop a couple pills, why do I do this to myself?

I'm a mess yeah I'm a wreck, But you'll never ever tell
The last nights dinner was a glass of crown

A bad day, a bad month, a bad year could go by
By the time you realize
The worst is done, the voice is gone, you made it out alive

Bottle of whiskey for my sorrows
I'm not thinking about tomorrow
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Who knew that Twenty Four could be
So much worse than Twenty Three
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Struggle baby struggle that's all I know
Wake up kid be an adult
Make your bed and put on your best clothes
But it's just for show

Life's a bitch, take one down
Go ahead and pass it around
Pour it up then choke it down
We got Ninety Nine bottles just to help us drown

Our heads keep spinning, but our lives
Hey
We keep living, lifes a bitch
Hey
Count me out
Because when the party's all over, we end up in the ground

Okay, that might have been a little over dramatic
But, it's a metaphor okay
And you know what they say about metaphors
Don't you don't you
Fuck them

A bad day, a bad month, a bad year could go by
By the time you realize
The worst is done, the voice is gone, you made it out alive

Bottle of whiskey for my sorrows
I'm not thinking about tomorrow
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Who knew that Twenty Four could be
So much worse than Twenty Three
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Struggle baby struggle that's all I know
Wake up kid be an adult
Make your bed and put on your best clothes
But it's just for show

Woh
I hate my boss
Shit, I guess I'll still go to work

Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

You know what I hate
What
Waking up every day
Going to the same job for Eight hours
It's draining, it sucks the life right out of me
I don't think I can take it anymore

It's overrated
I'm sick of trying
It's something corporate
It feels like I'm dying

A bad day, a bad month, a bad year could go by
By the time you realize
The worst is done, the voice is gone, you made it out alive

Bottle of whiskey for my sorrows
I'm not thinking about tomorrow
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Who knew that Twenty Four could be
So much worst than Twenty Three
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Bottle of whiskey for my sorrows
I'm not thinking about tomorrow
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Who knew that Twenty Four could be
So much worst than Twenty Three
Woh oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Struggle baby struggle that's all I know
Wake up kid be an adult
Make your bed and put on your best clothes



Credits
Writer(s): Parker Cundall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link