Unreleased

Getting kinda tired of the way that you won’t look at me

With every crooked smile; indiscretion

And “I’m not mad”s

Expressions of expression when I’m wrapped around her fingers

Give me a hundred different reasons to believe it’s just as she planned

But darling give me practice, give me reasons for your shit, or give me death

And solace brings me comfort but when I’m in distress you’re at your best

Make a list of grievances I’ll give each one a shot and maybe

When you’re sick and tired of my answers I’ll shoot right back

Cause you know what you’re thinking before any sorry word slips out that pretty little brain of yours. accept it and cut some slack

And you know what I’m thinking and it’s “fuck your monologue” and “you’ll regret”s

And solace brings me comfort but when I’m in distress you’re at your best