Of endless perfect failure So sweet you can't believe You'll wanna write them down on your sleeve (I have a message) Of walking home at midnight And feeling ten feet tall Of missing love you hang from the wall (I have a message)
And all of the time That we consumed to try and make The delicate lie You tell yourself that nothing changes
And it's like I told you The minute that we first met Some people have style That usually they have regret (I have a message)
Of endless blooming Sundays Suspended in the trees Now falling fast asleep at your feet (I have a message) Of opening new head wounds For the old aren't even clean Enough packing flowers in their every single scene (I have a message)
And the neighbors next door are in their garden, screaming They're so humbled from The way the world, it hurts their feelings
And it's like I told you The second that we first embraced Some people have style That usually means they have no taste
Do you still see yourself in East L.A? (Oh-oh, oh-oh) The smell of weed and slow gentrification (Oh-oh, oh-oh) And every single part of me that wants to drown (Oh-oh, oh-oh) Is every part of you that turns to help me out (Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh) (I have a message)
Of slow collasping sunlight That ends another day Of waiting for the next one to start again (I have a message) Of laying underneath you A stolen river of drugs Of being close enough that we almost touchTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.