Westeasterly

I can't keep it up at this pace, it's a bit too slow
And I try to throw it back in your face, but it comes back over
Stupid labelling of psychic pain, don't fail me now
I need your steadiness and consistency to think that I'll ever

Get a fucking grip, oh, what a stupid joke
The punchline never even rips, it just breaks like yoke
And spread the joke around my brain until it marinates
I tried to make it on time but I got there late, oh

I took the west train to the east side to feel something
And have an excuse to think by myself
And stay static, wow, I'm really moving
And it worked out, yeah, it worked so fine

I can see him between the lines
And your lips wrapped tight around your little lies
You can never get him out, yeah, even if you tried
You can never get him out

I used to wanna stay up so late
And count everything that I hate
Now these processes feel so mechanical
And not substantial

They're not conducive to my happiness
And I'll take any happiness that I can get
And I'll take any happiness that I can get

All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it

All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it
All of that shit? Don't worry about it



Credits
Writer(s): Jake Foster
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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