Correction Paroles Honda Civic - Work Tape par Armors

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Paroles

Zero, one, two, three, four

Ruin my ears loudly with shitty dance music
Can't dance myself clean enough to feel like a real person
Now Frances is my Frisco, she plays volleyball at Yale
Took a hit from a stranger, so I got her email

It won't even matter which photographs I like
She'll just stay on my phone, 'til she forgets that I'm alive
I hate the way I am, and I hate the way things are
Maybe singing, thinking, walking to my car

What's the point of dancing
If I just go home alone
In my Honda Civic
I don't even f*cking own?
Seems all my good intentions
Are just drying up with age
So if I die alone
I'll only have myself to blame

I had a few more, now she smokes, it's ringing in my ear
She said that she likes singing in the spirit, Ever clear
Definitely not touched someone, or actually play it cool
f*ck my insecurities, and f*ck this f*cking fool
Now I'm doing 90, and it's 3 o'clock at night
And I feel like a piece of shit for speeding, f*ck my life
'Cause I don't wanna be out, and I don't want to be home
Just looking for some danger, to pretend that I have grown

I may not be in love with you but flirt and play pretend
Meet you in New Haven, introduce me to your friends
Take me to a party where I will not do some drugs
Run into the bathroom with an everlasting shrug
And when it all is over and you're nowhere to be found
I'll find myself singing to a thirty-person crowd
A ballad or a eulogy, who really gives a f*ck?
'Cause if I die alone, it will not be because of luck

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