Sour Patch

And I'm just living like my old self

And I'm just living like my old self

Day drink and sleep, repeat

And I can't write a single good song it's fucked up let me be

And I'll avoid all of my taxes, miss rent and miss my friends, Even though I can't see Them

I mean what the fucks the deal with growing up

But I just can't help but need some therapy some sex and cigarettes

I'll sit and contemplate suicide with hypochondriacs

Well my name isn't relevant, fall in love with your best friend

Just take our time and cure those klephtic hands those spirit nights and LA times just Take Your fucking time