Weak knees, fuck your sympathy
I'll be my own best friend
She prays as the radio plays
" I See A Bad Moon Rising... " again
Foretold, she lives on hold
What is she trying to save me from?
Blindspot in the adjacent lot
waiting for my time to come
I won't wait in this line
I've got nothing left in me
My weight on your shifting spine
I fuck up and you fabricate me

Gray days on paper plates
our vibrations collide
Arcane, sister's a saint
She sets herself aside
Pitfall, publish, appall
I fall down right in the street
You blow smoke, you sugarcoat
then you take a front row seat
And I think I've had enough
I'm not listening to it
Lay all of your cards on the table
I know that you'd take every bit

I won't wait in this line
Sooner or later it goes awry
And you live your life like a chore
and I'm not listening anymore