John Goodman (Redux)

3:15’s lost its charm in sweet seclusion

The ringing of a false alarm for my own amusement

“Demi Moore” on the first go round, I can’t wait for “Georgia”

Something quiet just to keep me down, whilst trying not to call you

By the time the drugs wear off I’ll become the clinic

Another sentence that I’ll have to start

But one of which I know I’ll never ever...

Every time I die a little inside, put pity on a pedestal to counteract the chemical high

Where is the fun in when it kicks in? When I’ve been down for so much less than this

Chasing the tail of terrible things, circle back to where to the conscience is

I focus on the wall, the wall, it gazes back, guess I was never alone at all

I’m a passenger in the backseat of my head

A sore sight for sorry eyes displayed on the bed

Any accident means a last will and testament

But keep it secret ‘cause I don’t want to know how it ends

You’re a calendar crossing days out you’d rather forget

Every time I die a little inside, put pity on a pedestal to counteract the chemicals

Heavy lies the hedonistic moron

Dizzy but impenetrable

Too far gone to sleep it all off

Every distraction left on repeat

Back at the trash burning on the beach

Seven isn’t where I want to be

Things were so much better at just gone 3:00