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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tilian Pearson
Vocals
Andrew Wells
Guitar
Jonathan Mess
Screams
Matthew Mingus
Drums
Tim Feerick
Bass
Will Swan
Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tilian Pearson
Songwriter
Will Swan
Songwriter
Jonathan Mess
Songwriter
Matthew Mingus
Songwriter
Tim Feerick
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kris Crummett
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Surprise, oh-oh, didn't think I'd have to answer for the lies
I told myself, at least not so soon
Goodbye, oh-oh, to adrenaline and ambition comply
Gotta look inside myself for another reason to live
Dependent on the medicine to keep my colors vivid
Think I hit the limit
But I've been doing better ever slightly for a minute
Think that I can pivot
Part of me wants to believe
That I will not come apart at the seams
That I will learn from the cut when I bleed
That I'm a tank, I'm a goddamn machine, uh
Part of me wants to believe
That I will not come apart at the seams
That I deserve to deliver my dream
That my name will light up the marquee, yuh
Blame it all on the lamest dude
Blame it all on the payment due
Blame it all on the fragrant food
Pray to God for your mother
Always wonder what you gon' do
Come to terms with a painful truth
Pray to God that we make it through
Pray to God for your mother
Tap out (tap out), tap out (tap out), tap out (tap out), tap out (tap out)
You wanna tap out, but you feel ashamed to back out
What would your friends and your family say?
(No, oh) oh-oh, didn't think I'd have to answer for the lies
I told myself, at least not so soon
Dependent on the medicine to keep my colors vivid
Think I hit the limit
But I've been doing better ever slightly for a minute
Think that I can pivot
Part of me wants to believe
That I will not come apart at the seams
That I will learn from the cut when I bleed
That I'm a tank, I'm a goddamn machine, uh
Part of me wants to believe
That I will not come apart at the seams
That I deserve to deliver my dream
That my name will light up the marquee, yuh
Blame it all on the lamest dude
Blame it all on the payment due
Blame it all on the fragrant food
Pray to God for your mother
Always wonder what you gon' do
Come to terms with a painful truth
Pray to God that we make it through
Pray to God for your mother
Scream, explain, you do it 'til you're trained
My voice is like my horoscope, I'm Scorpio, I'm strange
I tried to tame my brain, I admit it was in vain
I let it go, it flows, it knows I cannot do a thing
I got grips and I got stocks, I got barrels with an ox
Now I'm cold enough, I can't be angered
All these writing on my walls, built them up to break my fall
Now I'm cold enough, I can't be angered
Writer(s): Matthew James Mingus, William Swan, Jonathan David Mess, Timothy Thomas Feerick, Tilian Pearson
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