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you canât blame the boring, the neurotic know
every kid has secrets they never let go
burn the evenings I write till seven am
no more inking linden street
no more looking for a father unloading his gun
a childhood undone, not covered up
but weâre all looking, the world canât stop looking
you canât blame the vipers of the southern states
the patchwork sermons misquoting verses
the alter call zooâs, adult america shaking with hell fire and fear
no more looking for a maker who doesnât take your friends
a gospel of moments, not an end
but weâre all looking, the world canât stop looking
Iâm desperate to believe but I donât shit where I eat
when I donât know, I donât know
Iâm too old to pretend and to unsure to descend
Iâm desperate to believe but I donât shit where I eat
when I donât know, I donât know
Iâm too old to pretend and to unsure to descend
did we learn to think or did we learn to believe
letâs be the ones who are served, not the ones who serve
the landlord of the afterlife canât evict us from death
the neon and the garbage go to heaven to die
and thatâs why Iâd rather die alone in the night
Iâm desperate to believe but I donât shit where I eat
when I donât know, I donât know
Iâm too old to pretend and to unsure to descend