mystery

Other than love what's the consequence

Other than trust, rather we fucked i feel astonished quick damn

What's on your mind and how do we accomplish it

We fade away then drift away we never accomplish shit

I said it once, I'll count to two and then we're done again

We'll take it out and then we'll fuck i guess that's how it ends

We always argue, your the model and I'll make the mends

Shit, fuck i guess I'll make the mends

But what's on your mind, faded in your room with the closed blinds

But it's a mystery what's left, we'll move on your time

And then you'll claim to me you're dead, i guess that's on sight