stuff your sentences into your boring diary
stuff your senses into the back of your jeans
take the controls, grab hold
get fuckin ready

bring your appetite and break sobriety
stuff your senses into the back of your jeans
take the controls, grab hold
get fuckin ready

you and i have minutes between
we lie, but we’re still listening
it’s too soon i know, but i can walk slow
it’s a couple blocks away

we don’t have to cry
we can turn bad luck into a bad joke
we don’t have to sing
we can turn a sad string into a long dream
we don’t have to bleed
we can just repeat
when we are alone