A Brief Dissertation on a Night Spent Talking in a Boston Accent

I won’t cut my hair in hopes that all I ever was can grow alongside who I am
today
All I’ll ever be is a gas station bouquet of roses
A last minute thought and a waste of air
I won’t smile a lot, but I won’t cry
Sure as hell won’t let anyone inside
All I’ll ever be is a gas station bouquet of roses
A last minute thought and a waste of air
I still don’t sleep most nights
Not because I’m scared, but because I’m not alive
And I still don’t sleep most nights
Not because I’m scared, but because I’m not alive
All I’ll ever be is a gas station bouquet of roses
A last minute thought and a waste of air