Comadre Tannerisms
I am sick of noise, I am sick of toys, I want more. Just
like "I want the moon" there's got to be more than just
comfort. Feels like we're knocking on all the wrong
doors. Give me the gold. I am selling this city that once
sold me hope and burning the cash, cuz I've got no room
for failure, and rainy days are found in the back of my
throat. I am losing again and nothing has ever felt
better, give up the chance and call us the poorman's
sunsetters [upsetters] but something or someone must be
keeping me breathing. This time I am gonna stay in bed
with all my mistakes and start to turn off my books and
turn on my chest. I'll conquer this world with just my
hands full of sheets and these eyes thick with sleep. So
please please please please please let me kill what I
got.