Bomb The Music Industry!

Текст песни King Of Minneapolis, Pts. I And II

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Bomb The Music Industry! - Текст песни King Of Minneapolis, Pts. I And II

I. DRANK MYSELF TO DEATH

We got a bottle of Jim Beam and started drinking.
I drank a liter.
To distract me from my constant overthinking
I need a breather.

You built this up your head. The pressure.
Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
Well, I relaxed with liquor.
The pressure has gone away,
But baby, I can't see shit.
It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
It's not the same to me when
I finally drank myself to death.

Enter the shaking, man, I should'va eaten something.
Enter the crying.
"My life is useless and I won't amount to nothing."
Better start dying.

You built this up your head. The pressure.
Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
Well, I relaxed with liquor.
The pressure has gone away,
But baby, I can't see shit.
It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
Wrap me up in sheets,
There's nothing left to see here.

I should be old enough to know (better better)
And I should be young enough to
Not take everything so seriously
I should be smart enough to
Know that doing this is dangerous
This mixing anxious energy with
Drunk ferocious carelessness.
???
I finally drank myself to death.

I finally drank myself to death.Bomb The Music Industry! - King Of Minneapolis, Pts. I And II - http://ru.motolyrics.com/bomb-the-music-industry/king-of-minneapolis-pts-i-and-ii-lyrics.html
It's turned to laughs.
I'm turning red outside on Cedar St.
It's twenty-two degrees.
I'm screaming:
"M-I-N-N-E-A-P-O-L-I-S CAN KISS MY ASS IN HELL"
I've built you up in my head
And now you've started a war in my head.

And the soldiers are falling down.
And you din't even try to win.

Aw, fuck.

II. TRUE 'TIL COLLEGE

Get me a friend or a smoke
Or a hospital or a suicide pill.
Get me a million dollar record deal
So I can end this charade.

Cause I, I keep writing the same song over again,
Over and over and over and over again.
Yeah I, I keep writing the same damn song over again.
Over and over and over and over again.

And it feels like heroin.
I just got addicted to
Demanding your attentio
For my trite repetition.
And I can't stop thinking about
The first songs I ever wrote
Where I swore off alcohol
'cause I knew better.
And I can't stop feeling like
That "straight edge" shit became a cult
But I'm kidding myself by believing
That the bar scene is any better.

And I, I keep writing the same damn song over again.
Over and over and over and over again.
And it feels like there's nothing left at all.

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