Notes: 9 / 1 year ago
Late night writing (fuck everybody)
The later I stay up
The more I get by
On these broken car speakers—
They carry me through the night
I guess when I sit and think about it,
It was all a game
We played a little different but the pieces were the same.
You needed me to kiss your ass and maybe some money for gas.
I needed to feel like someone was there at all.
Like someone was there at all.
But these old habits…
I won’t let them stick.
We can pretend it won’t come up on us quick…
But here it is, crushing.
These friendships were nothing but a bunch of blown smoke into egos that just broke and pictures that were already burning.
And maybe I kept you around because this city was too much to down alone.
But now I know.
It’s much better when we stop pretending.
Then there’s more time to sing along.
Down the river with the tracks at our back,
There’s more time to sing along.
When we stop pretending.