Say Anything, Alex Kent, Dylan Mattheisen - 17 Coked Up Speeding lyrics
[Say Anything, Alex Kent, Dylan Mattheisen - 17 Coked Up Speeding lyrics]
I’m 17, coked up and speeding
And I cannot swear that
This is actually happening
Collecting names scrawled out
On paper napkins
Confusing love with squalid, base attraction
I’m 21 and she’s called the cops to take me
As I weep my eyes bone dry
In the back of a taxi
I’m so convinced that now
It’s finally too late
Disembodied, friction based
Toothless in an empty face
I don’t mind, if I spend my time
Humping a fault line
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil
"You always think too much, feel too little
" "Hey, kid!
You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just do) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
I’m 23 locked up in the asylum
Listening too much to my own album
Sent me spinning out death-wish-bound
To forge a callous
Stomping on the seesaw where I balance
I’m at that age where I
Actually go to parties
And I sit in the back with a
Drink and let them judge me
While I pray to the devil that
A hurricane comes to take us
We’ll be torn away from all
The ways we fake trust
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
"Hey, kid! Hey, kid!
Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
Kid, you’re not a kid anymore!"
Psychic Nazism throbbing viral meme fissures
Eating my insides cut, maim
And drink beneath an obese sweltering sun
I am a vain little white
Boy with nothing to offer
Except the admission that we
Have become a disease
So if this is what your God has to offer
I spit in his face
And I cannot swear that
This is actually happening
Collecting names scrawled out
On paper napkins
Confusing love with squalid, base attraction
I’m 21 and she’s called the cops to take me
As I weep my eyes bone dry
In the back of a taxi
I’m so convinced that now
It’s finally too late
Disembodied, friction based
Toothless in an empty face
I don’t mind, if I spend my time
Humping a fault line
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil
"You always think too much, feel too little
" "Hey, kid!
You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just do) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
I’m 23 locked up in the asylum
Listening too much to my own album
Sent me spinning out death-wish-bound
To forge a callous
Stomping on the seesaw where I balance
I’m at that age where I
Actually go to parties
And I sit in the back with a
Drink and let them judge me
While I pray to the devil that
A hurricane comes to take us
We’ll be torn away from all
The ways we fake trust
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
"Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
You’re not a kid anymore!"
Said the fool to the mystic "Be realistic!"
(Just feel) his reply was a lipstick sigil:
"You always think too much, feel too little"
"Hey, kid! Hey, kid!
Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore!
Kid, you’re not a kid anymore!"
Psychic Nazism throbbing viral meme fissures
Eating my insides cut, maim
And drink beneath an obese sweltering sun
I am a vain little white
Boy with nothing to offer
Except the admission that we
Have become a disease
So if this is what your God has to offer
I spit in his face