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lyrics
You always laugh,
At really bad jokes.
Have you realized yet all your friends know it’s a hoax?
You went to college,
Didn’t learn a thing.
Mocking all their learning, but too scared to sing.
I know it’s cooler that way,
But despondency is a drain.
What’s the point in winning a loser’s game?
You start gentrifying prison,
Lobbying for decomposition.
Just another wet blanket in my pouring rain.
Well here comes Fitzgerald,
Old money America,
Sipping gin on yachts and writing with red mascara.
He’s gone numb
From small talk and alcohol
500 texts a day but never a call.
When affection strikes to the core,
And the sentimental people leave ya bored
Start looking for something profound to ignore.
Well the music went Rococo.
Big mouths and little dreams.
You don’t know where I stand but you know what I mean.
You can’t find,
Peace of mind.
Well maybe that’s cause you’re not really tryin’.
credits
released April 27, 2016
Alex Dobson - guitars, vocals
Clay Graham - guitars, vocals
Jordan Puckett - keyboard
Seth Short - drums
Austin Warren - bass
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