73rd. Street Beachside Lyrics

True love, baby what is true love

Tell me what you really think is true love

I think it's when you let it go

And drown it out

Let it all go and watch the world

Drown it out

I like to get drunk

And make decisions I'll hate later

Maybe it's true

And my hearts Really

Made of paper

Maybe it's true

And deep down

I'm really filled with hatred

Wether they fall or rise

All villains seem to make it

I still remember the day

That we both gave it up

June always feels the same

A little out of touch

If she come around and feels like home

I'll know it's really love

But what's the point

Of trying to reconnect

On what you've given up

Half finished, fucking stupid

Broken down, diminished

Journal entries of a nigga

Who might just hold the Guinness

World record of fucking disconnections

They say to count my blessings

Well I'm holding on

To give a reference

I used to think I knew

What I wanted with love

Now I know what I need

And fucking crave in a person

I remember cold days

Back in October

Two thousand and thirteen

Forever I'ma hold on