What Drummers Get

You’ve got a pretty good band
And they’re sweet for not minding me hanging around
But I’m deadening these conscious pangs
I’m half the man you think I could have been
Drummers get everything!
I’m going to slice up his hands
Let’s see how he saves soundcheck with his bleeding palms
I’m more than halfway serious
I’m half the man you think I could have been
(Half the man you think I could have been)
Now seagulls run this neighbourhood
The last time we came was the last for good
I don’t think we’re speaking
(Don't think we’re speaking)
We’re all out of season
Pack (re)pack is where we’re at
I don’t think I wanna end up like that
I don’t think we’re speaking
(Don't think we’re speaking)
We’re all out of season
Better kill you off, than lead you on
Oh, we know awkward well
And as for him
Oh, he’s moving to Birmingham
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh sweet!
I’ll take anything!
Oh, tell me what can you give?
I’ll have alternate weekends and your bottom lip
And every time you lose your shit to songs I wrote
I know I’m part of this
(Songs I wrote, I know i’m part of this)
We’ll always remember the bad times together