B.F.F.

Cheap white wine, am faded again There's nobody on the line And another life I'll beat you again Looking sharp, living clean I guess I thought for some silly reason I could always go back there Hardly you wanna hear what's to run anymore There already caught up in the globalist Like trapped in a bag bunch of plastic bullshit didn't die I can bear humus here in my mind to a giant fish fry Oh yeah, back on my bullshit I feel it myself I have my own supply, stay up all night long Smoking dope, writing songs I guess it's really just a case of do or die So bring me the head of John Mayer And all the other charion posters And the the online designer ta-da Yeah bring back sixty for the non existent Kinda culture hoodie Which are these whole fuckin' things she done To her beautiful fish fry Oh the big fish fry, oh my I can hear the frozen fernace Loose her ship to those are innocence How long ago? So long ago aah Yes I was vague to play, ego was eating me alive I was living a bullfaced life And am scared of epice scenes Doings interviews on the magazines Making weekend trips to the bullified world at country side Ooh at country side ooh aah Can we recover from this? Do we lose our home do we lose our innocence? Long ago, so long ago So long ago, so long ago So long ago, so Iong ago So long ago, so long ago (Oh my God where are my.) (Go get it!) (Wow! Is this bread on a freaky) (Is it, is it? They brought us aah bread on ah) (Fuck! I don't know what the fuck am saying) (On what? Bread on what?)