Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
aaron's book club
aaron's book club
Performer
Aaron Daane
Aaron Daane
Vocals
Andrew Steinhart
Andrew Steinhart
Violin
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Aaron Daane
Aaron Daane
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
aaron's book club
aaron's book club
Producer

Lyrics

Pressing your head in with antidepressants
The man who's concaving your soft temple beckons
He looks like the devil, just slightly less threatening
His head has no horns, and his face is less wretched
He's holding your hand 'til you loosen your grasp
Suddenly, his grip is a prison of his wrath
You know that you shouldn't, but can't help to ask
Your blood is the water that's drawing his bath
Somehow, I'm not surprised, somehow, I'm not surprised
Everything good that life offers you passes you by
God tends to desert you, angels don't deserve you
You still wear all of the scars on your body
You're spinning 'round and 'round, but you're still dirty laundry
You're biting your friends, and they are turning to zombies
They'd rather mob elsewhere than hear that you're sorry
You know that you messed up, let's hope they forgive you
Maybe they will, but that's not the issue
The teardrops roll off of your cheeks 'til they kiss you
Cry 'til you blow out your brains in a tissue
Somehow, I'm not surprised, somehow, I'm not surprised
Everything good that life offers you passes you by
My guitar lays me down on a red button bed
And I tell all my thoughts to a Shure 57
I'm getting too sharp, so I'll use some correction
I'm yelling too loud, so turn up the compression
You're pressing your head in with antidepressants
The man who's concaving your soft temple beckons
He looks like the devil, just slightly less threatening
His head has no horns, and his face is less wretched
I'm begging someone just to tell me I'm anxious
'Cause my thoughts aren't valid until confirmation
Unless it's a birthday or special occasion
It's proof that the truth is an empty sensation
Turn off the de-esser cause I like it better
The way I say S's sounds just like my mother
I'm pulling the thread of the hole in my sweater
Just keep that bad take, I don't care if I stuttered
I'm gutted to hear the news I saw coming
It seems like my knees are too weak to outrun it
But I'll gun it, and I'll trip, and I'll fall down way farther
Than if I just faced my disgrace with some honor
Written by: Aaron Daane
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