Things Will Get Worse

I'm in terrible shape
Indenting a twin size mattress we both knows seen better days
Drifting off in space
I slept in my clothes, I have no self control
I can barely recognize my own face

And you say that you don't get it
Well you probably never will
Your pedantic grabs at compassion
Come up shorter ever still...

And I hope that things will get worse
And I hope I beat you into the dirt
Take all my money and all of my clothes
But leave my guitars
I'll play em when I'm a ghost

Well you saw me again
And you ask what I'm thinking
I'm back on the meds
And I've been doing less drinking
I know it's good for my health
But why can't I fetishize destroying myself?

Another New Years resolution
Failed by January 5th
Another batch of half baked excuses
Cmon man get a grip
Oh cmon man get a grip

And I hope that things will get worse
And I hope I beat you into the dirt
Take all my money and all of my clothes
But leave my guitars
I'll play em when I'm a ghost



Credits
Writer(s): Harrison Gordon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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