Suspensionofdisbelief

I’m running up backrooms, spaces, all day
Anything to keep me up scared, not
Dreaming, of your, face
And fucking up my feelings again

It’s always the dullness of my suburbia and your city lights
Growing up under different night skies
I didn’t feel like the right guy

So I tried being a poser but I wasn’t impressed
It comes down to your face and the way that you’re dressed
I got delusional but only to a certain effect
Thought I was great when I’m only in the middle at best

And I’m tripping over my words
I’m saying jack shit even if I am heard
Cause I just write about sex and the end of the world
And how I can’t get over the same girl

I don’t talk enough and I don’t say what I’m always thinking but maybe I'm not thinking enough
I’m dreaming of love and to myself I’m a winner
And if you don’t think the same well then I don’t give a fuck

Yeah, I don't give a (fuck)