Waxahatchee

Michel

Waxahatchee

American Weekend


Hands under my clothes
We can't let it go
You set it up masterfully
And then blame it all on me

Cynicism smothering
Implanted, blossoming in me
Our fun is toxic and bold
Embellished and oversold

Embody me
Because I am weak
I moved out
But I never opened my mouth
I never opened my mouth

It's late, I'm up on the roof
In new york. I hung up on you
I can't pay for the mistakes I made
So I'll just let this die and decay

Compositor: Katie Crutchfield

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