Fake Death

Pass me off
If you're not there then what's the point of going out?
Enough to give your school friends something to talk about
Growing up on River Street and telling me your dreams
Come home

Your eyes alone
A story told about how you can't help but feel old
You've got an honest face
Doesn't it account for your mistakes?
Your hands build beautiful things for your mind to destroy
Oh, to have no control

It hurts a lot
Still I'm glad I could connect
I still look good, her language tells me I've impressed
Muscle, muscle, baby's calling me a god
Gives me everything I've ever wanted, love protected



Credits
Writer(s): Adam Mcilwee, Benjamin Walsh
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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