lyrics
on fridays i drink too much come tuesdays i call you up and thursdays i think about everything that i fucked up, well, living in my parents basement. but im too scared to say it: i've pulled the trigger and missed my only shot. and the week passes slow. slow enough for you to know that i'm just sitting here wasting, too wasted. fridays i drink too much. tuesdays i call you up. thursdays i think about everything that i fucked up
let me come home let me come home let me come home let come home.
(i mean home in the most figurative of senses. home is my body when i don't hate it. home is your van, listening to skee-lo in the dark, driving too fast on the highway to square one.)
(making progress isn't drawing a straight line its going in circles and wearing out the grooves and sometimes i wonder if skipping on repeat as if the last few times weren't bad enough.
and sometimes i wonder if skipping on repeat as if the last few times weren't bad enough.
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