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B.F.F.
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Jonathan Wilson
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Shit white wine, I'm faded again There's nobody on the line In another life I'm peachy keen Looking sharp, living clean I guess I thought for some silly reason I could always go back there Hardly anyone here wants to run anymore They're all red-pilled Caught up in a globalist lie To try and then buy a bunch of plastic bullshit, then die I compare it humorously in my mind To a giant fish fry Oh yeah, I'm back on my bullshit I'm feeling myself I'm high on my own supply I stay up all night long Smoking dope and writing songs I guess it's really just a case of do or die So bring me the head of John Mayer And all of the other Jerry imposters In their online designer tie-dye Yeah, I'll PayPal one-sixty For the nonexistent counterculture hoodie Let's turn this whole fucking fake shakedown into a real fish fry Oh, the big fish fry, oh my Can we recover from this? Did we lose our shit? Did we lose our innocence long ago? So long ago Yes, I was paying to play Ego was eating me alive I was living a bald-faced lie But I was making epic scenes Doing interviews, all the magazines And making weekend trips to the bonafide wild-eyed countryside Oh, the countryside, oh my Can we recover from this? Did we lose our? Did we lose our innocence long ago? So long ago So long ago So long ago So long ago So long ago So long ago So long ago
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