Collection

This late at night, it's hard to tell what's real and what's not
I need to sleep with our seatbelts fucking
The trees are people watching, jerking off
To our faces and our parts

You're barely twenty, your father's a cop
He has some guns and if you turn their safeties off

I know which one your room is
Should I knock? Should I knock?

In the home of burning couches and five bucks a cup
I'll use The Facebook to look you up

I can sneak in past the trees
I can sneak in
Through the deck