| She don’t hit me up anymore, no
|
| Things that were fun just ain’t fun anymore, no
|
| Six in the morning I know I should go home
|
| But I, uh- huh
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| High as fuck and the clock’s screaming tick-tock
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| Girls in the suburbs singing Smiths songs
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| I know that it’s wrong
|
| I don’t know what I’m doin, but
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| Baby one day it’ll all make sense
|
| Baby one day it’ll all make sense
|
| Baby one day it’ll all make sense
|
| But I just don’t know when
|
| And it feels like the end
|
| And all of my friends
|
| Said
|
| That I should get my mind off of the wrong things
|
| I should probably tear off all my heart strings
|
| You can’t pull them no more, no
|
| Can I pass out on your floor
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| Can I have a little more so I can
|
| Hear you babble on some more about him
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| About him, yeah
|
| I got a little water bottle full of whiskey
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| Oh you lookin pretty like a model you should kiss me
|
| You so cool with your drugs and your ripped jeans
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| I’m with you, but you ain’t with me, no, no
|
| Baby one day it’ll all make sense
|
| But I just don’t know when
|
| And it feels like the end
|
| And all of my friends, said
|
| That I should get my mind off of the wrong things
|
| I should probably tear off all my heart strings
|
| You can’t pull them no more |