Cut Me, Mick

One two three
Two two three
I been spilling my guts all over stages
Through busted lips and onto the pages
And killin' my friends with the ink from my pen
And prayin' it don’t get no worse
'Cause now I’m all dressed up with no place to go
'Cause they all want something sad, sweet, and slow
But don’t look to me for your hip apathy
Well I still got something to say
I still got something to say
Cause the crowds are getting bigger, anxiety worse
I’ll drink up my blessings and spit out the curse
When the boots hit the boards we won’t be ignored
Until this van becomes my hearse
Now all of the noise kids are dressed to the nines
Snorting their paychecks in cute little lines
In a bodega bathroom, committing their crimes
It ain’t easy lookin' this good
It ain’t easy lookin' this good
Now shoot the cough medicine into my veins
The faces get blurry but it kills all the pain
And the voices inside my head stop screaming
Loud enough for me to get to sleep
So move to the city and start up a band
Get your heart broke wide open
With the blood from your hands
Write it all down and embrace the sound
Of failing miserably, yeah
So move to the city and start up a band
Get your heart broke wide open
With the blood from your hands
Write it all down and embrace the sound
Of failing miserably
Write it all down and embrace the sound
We are failing miserably
This is the sound of failing miserably