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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bridie Monds-Watson
Guitar
Thomas McLaughlin
Bass Guitar
James Byrne
Drums
Michael Keeney
Piano
Sophie Galpin
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bridie Monds-Watson
Songwriter
Thomas McLaughlin
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bridie Monds-Watson
Producer
Thomas McLaughlin
Producer
Katie Tavini
Engineer
Michael Keeney
Producer
Lyrics
You called out my bullshit
And in the same month we decorated me in citrus be your
Respect
I couldn't help but choke to you and it meant I exaggerated
Will not always be like this
But the first six weeks made me feel, made me feel infinite
I'm not a sentimentalist
How can I be in the moment when I'm dread in the end of it?
Something about how you swim
Was elegant and self-assured
And you take the legs from under me
And you star in my extended day-dreams
If now's not a good time
Then bury me in last July
Oh, oh, oh
I laugh when everyone else does (I laugh when everyone else does)
I've never felt so illiterate (never felt so illiterate)
The scent of this foreign place
They need to speak your language
Staring at Lac Leman sorry eyes
What if this is the last time I get sensationalized?
And when I've been every stereotype
I don't wanna become just another place that you went one time
I don't wanna be a souvenir (I don't wanna be a souvenir)
And I don't wanna be a Polaroid (I don't wanna be a Polaroid)
I wanna buy your groceries
I wanna tell you all my weird theories
And you'll take the legs from under me
And you'll curate all of my fever dreams
It's just never a good time
Just bury me in last July
Let me know when you figure yourself out
Let me know when you figure yourself out
Writer(s): Bridie Mae Siobhan Monds Watson, Thomas Gerard Mclaughlin
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