1. |
Seattle
04:15
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My finger tips are wearing to the bone,
and I don't wanna stay up here all night (You gotta stay all night).
Another Narragansett and I'm staring at my phone,
my mind is screaming that this ain't right.
When you're calling me,
as you walk around these city streets.
I can't even recognize this anymore.
Then you're calling back,
and everything is just "take it off".
I can't even recognize this anymore.
These days scream for stories,
of politics and wine.
Anything to quite my mind.
The smell of cigarettes fills up the air,
and I don't think I'm doing this quite right (doing this quite right)
Don't mind me I'm just pulling out my hair,
Don't worry about me I'll be just fine.
When you're calling me,
as you walk around these city streets.
I can't even recognize this anymore.
Then you're calling back,
and everything is just "take it off".
I can't even recognize this anymore.
These days scream for stories,
of politics and wine.
Anything to quite my mind.
Oh god I don't really feel anything,
Oh god I can't really love anything,
Oh god I don't believe in anything,
All I want is just to fall asleep and entire night again.
My finger tips are wearing to the bone,
and I don't wanna stay up here all night (You gotta stay all night).
Another Narragansett and I'm staring at my phone,
I can't even recognize this anymore.
These days scream for stories,
of politics and wine.
Anything to quite my mind.
Oh god I don't really feel anything,
Oh god I can't really love anything,
Oh god I don't believe in anything,
All I want is just to fall asleep and entire night again.
Fall asleep an entire night again.
I can't breath, I can't breath,
come and smack me across the face like the good old times again.
I can't breath, I can't breath,
come and smack me across the face like the good old times again.
I can't breath, I can't breath,
come and smack me across the face like the good old times again.
I can't breath, I can't breath,
come and smack me across the face like the good old times again.
I can't breath, I can't breath,
come and smack me across the face like the good old times again.
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Trophy Lungs Boston, Massachusetts
Four intoxicated nerds playing mediocre music in between episodes of The X-Files.
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