"Strawberry" lyrics
I'm getting prouder of myself, bout everyday
Swinging my legs, kicking back at the moon
I just wonder if my uncle was around, what the hell he would say?
Wonder the same, bout my dog too
Feeling like this growing up stuff, kind of old
But there ain't nothing much that my soul don't hate
Let my goals blow away
Big bad wolf, knows something of depression
Let the pressure build and fester better days
Why should I be an artist?
Why should I just pick apart my remedies?
Local, social, interactive tendencies
Don't know who I'm meant to be
Open notebook, spewing lines and lyrics
I just found the time to write, I never really wanna hear
I'm bad at healing, just forget about it
I'm bad at dealing when my thoughts are clouded
I'm bad at voicing my opinions on just whenever I've had enough
And never passive when I'm crafting, better bet I'm always capping when I'm acting clutch
I just bluff til they all disappear
Full of regrets, I seek out my innocent fears
I'm sick of sincerity, parody
Sick of acting like the person that I'll never care to be
And sick of staring at these glass panes
Sick of laying in the yard, covered in grass stains
Kicked even harder when I'm down bad in the dark
Pick out the sounds of what I'm fighting for
The beating of my heart sounds like a loud 'PANG'
Cold as froze, got that old type soul
Hope I don't die young, got some goals I sung
And I'm feeling less like fighting when my back is on the mat
Haven't sought out help, because I'm never good with facts
Always caught up on myself, and always down because of stats
I want a placard for these tracks I worry I might never have
And it's way too close for comfort
Don't know why I'm stumbling I carry on
It's way too close for comfort, yeah
Learn my simple ways until I don't
It's obscene, all these endless dreams
Got me twice as green
Don't know if I'll ever make it as a strawberry
Swinging my legs, kicking back at the moon
I just wonder if my uncle was around, what the hell he would say?
Wonder the same, bout my dog too
Feeling like this growing up stuff, kind of old
But there ain't nothing much that my soul don't hate
Let my goals blow away
Big bad wolf, knows something of depression
Let the pressure build and fester better days
Why should I be an artist?
Why should I just pick apart my remedies?
Local, social, interactive tendencies
Don't know who I'm meant to be
Open notebook, spewing lines and lyrics
I just found the time to write, I never really wanna hear
I'm bad at healing, just forget about it
I'm bad at dealing when my thoughts are clouded
I'm bad at voicing my opinions on just whenever I've had enough
And never passive when I'm crafting, better bet I'm always capping when I'm acting clutch
I just bluff til they all disappear
Full of regrets, I seek out my innocent fears
I'm sick of sincerity, parody
Sick of acting like the person that I'll never care to be
And sick of staring at these glass panes
Sick of laying in the yard, covered in grass stains
Kicked even harder when I'm down bad in the dark
Pick out the sounds of what I'm fighting for
The beating of my heart sounds like a loud 'PANG'
Cold as froze, got that old type soul
Hope I don't die young, got some goals I sung
And I'm feeling less like fighting when my back is on the mat
Haven't sought out help, because I'm never good with facts
Always caught up on myself, and always down because of stats
I want a placard for these tracks I worry I might never have
And it's way too close for comfort
Don't know why I'm stumbling I carry on
It's way too close for comfort, yeah
Learn my simple ways until I don't
It's obscene, all these endless dreams
Got me twice as green
Don't know if I'll ever make it as a strawberry
Writer(s): Ben McGibboney, Garrett Owens
