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Guts

de Augustine

Counting ticks from the clock
It's a morning too modest
She's finding parts of my face
Funny looking and anxious


It's a cruel world before the eyes of these posh innocents
I would use her to stay alive if the ground were to bend

And baby pulls her hair for a Vicodin
She falls flat on the bed again
Mutters something about the end
While covering her eyes with both her hands

I, on the other hand
I feel fine with the way I am
I awoke to her elegance
I’ve figured out a way to make amends


”Could you cut open all of my chest?
I'm already too restless
Of course I'm feeling depressed
Find a way we could use it”


It's a cruel world before the eyes of these posh innocents
I would use her to stay alive if the ground were to bend

And baby pulls her hair for a Vicodin
She falls flat on the bed again
Mutters something about the end
While covering her eyes with both her hands

I, on the other hand
I feel fine with the way I am
I awoke to her elegance
I’ve figured out a way to make amends


My my my
We’re pretenders
We’re beaming
We’re the signs of our time
My my
Oh whatever


And baby pulls her hair for a Vicodin
She falls flat on the bed again
Mutters something about the end
While covering her eyes with both her hands


I, on the other hand
I feel fine with the way I am
I awoke to her elegance
I’ve figured out a way to make amends

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