| Hands were shaking, I was scared to death
|
| Skin was clammy, I was short of breath
|
| Shirt smelled like all my regrets
|
| Shouldn’t have had that seventh cigarette
|
| It’s a job seven days a week
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| To make things harder than they have to be
|
| Makin' drama, my new nicotine
|
| Sick and tired of this old routine
|
| It’s another joke that I don’t get
|
| I’m a deep sea diver holdin' my breath
|
| But it’s plain to see if you know me
|
| I’m a deep sea diver
|
| And I’m in too deep
|
| Met a kid down in Bowling Green
|
| Of course he tried to sell me ketamine
|
| Didn’t tell him it was not my scene
|
| And promised him I’d try it next week
|
| Why are we scared to say what’s on our mind?
|
| Throw a projection of some selfish pride
|
| Make things harder than they have to be
|
| Easier said than done for me
|
| It’s another joke that I don’t get
|
| I’m a deep sea diver holdin' my breath
|
| But it’s plain to see if you know me
|
| I’m a deep sea diver
|
| And I’m in too deep
|
| It’s another joke that I don’t get
|
| I’m a deep sea diver
|
| Don’t know how to swim
|
| But it’s plain to see if you know me
|
| I’m a deep sea diver
|
| And I’m in too deep |