"Fuck, Dantooine Is Big" lyrics
Get to the church light
I need to reaffirm with God
That I'm none of his concern
Leave me in therapy
Maybe someday I'll be okay, (or) fit for release
But don't hold your breath
Misguided notions of what I do best
Come to mind, leading me to see
Nothing except the back of that formal piece of shit
Well I'm done, so convince someone else
They're functionless
Every part of a made up mess
They're functionless
Every part of a made up mess
And if doc says today that I'm not worthless
I bet that I can finally prove it
Those fingernails are growin' into my skin
Trembling like a headache, I'm awake feelin' nostalgic
Those pair of lenses know that my head is still talkin'
I hope I sleep tonight
And I hope you keep fiendin'
Over the white and red miserable death pumpin' in your chest
Wasting away any trace of normal blood so the fingers feel drunk
Erasing any prospect that the rest of life will feel less numb
We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves
We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves
No we won't, I've tried enough to know we won't
Give it up, I've tried enough so give it up
No we won't, I've tried enough to know we won't
Give it up, I've tried enough so give it up
(We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves)
I've got my head back
I've got (one-two-three-four)
I've got my head back, again
I'm thinkin' of the time when everyone was yellin' for us to stop being such pests
Andy is outside looking at his insides, and Alex moved out west
When you're alone eatin' your own throat
Does it hurt, this much to laugh?
Talking to yourself and made up names
Telling you "We'll be right back"
I need to reaffirm with God
That I'm none of his concern
Leave me in therapy
Maybe someday I'll be okay, (or) fit for release
But don't hold your breath
Misguided notions of what I do best
Come to mind, leading me to see
Nothing except the back of that formal piece of shit
Well I'm done, so convince someone else
They're functionless
Every part of a made up mess
They're functionless
Every part of a made up mess
And if doc says today that I'm not worthless
I bet that I can finally prove it
Those fingernails are growin' into my skin
Trembling like a headache, I'm awake feelin' nostalgic
Those pair of lenses know that my head is still talkin'
I hope I sleep tonight
And I hope you keep fiendin'
Over the white and red miserable death pumpin' in your chest
Wasting away any trace of normal blood so the fingers feel drunk
Erasing any prospect that the rest of life will feel less numb
We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves
We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves
No we won't, I've tried enough to know we won't
Give it up, I've tried enough so give it up
No we won't, I've tried enough to know we won't
Give it up, I've tried enough so give it up
(We'll make it out, it's been too many days
We're all fed up inside our graves)
I've got my head back
I've got (one-two-three-four)
I've got my head back, again
I'm thinkin' of the time when everyone was yellin' for us to stop being such pests
Andy is outside looking at his insides, and Alex moved out west
When you're alone eatin' your own throat
Does it hurt, this much to laugh?
Talking to yourself and made up names
Telling you "We'll be right back"
