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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Scott Helman
Vocals
Thomas "Tawgs" Salter
Programming
Tim Baltes
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Scott Tyler Schwartz
Songwriter
Thomas "Tawgs" Salter
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Scott Helman
Producer
Thomas "Tawgs" Salter
Producer
Joe Zook
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
You hate your chin, and I hate my collarbone
My ribs are too big, and you'd buy another nose
If you could afford it with all of the change
You make at the tables you wait
My hair is boring, and you hate the sound of your
Voice in recordings, and ever since we packed up
And left Philadelphia, we thought the light
Of the coast would make everything right, but
We are broken
People holding
Onto something
But I wanna hold onto you, yeah
Remember the night that we cursed yesterday
Facing a mirror, planning our getaway?
Now it makes it easier now that we know
That I love your chin, and you love my collarbone
Here's to the arm that you broke in sixth grade, and it
Never really healed and it gets in the way, and I
Know that you hate it, but I love the shape
Of how the "K" looks when you write your name
We are broken
People holding
Onto something
But I wanna hold onto you, yeah
Remember the night that we cursed yesterday
Facing a mirror, planning our getaway?
Now it makes it easier now that we know
That I love your chin, and you love my collarbone
I spent my life learning to hate myself
You spent the night, you told me to shut my mouth
Now it makes it easier now that we know
That I love your chin, and you love my collarbone
We are broken (yeah)
People holding (you love my, you love my, yeah)
Onto something
But I wanna hold onto you, yeah
Remember the night that we cursed yesterday
Facing a mirror, planning our getaway?
Now it makes it easier now that we know
That I love your chin, and you love my collarbone
I spent my life learning to hate myself
You spent the night, you told me to shut my mouth
Now it makes it easier now that we know
That I love your chin, and you love my collarbone
(Oh)
(Oh)
Keys in the car, yeah, we can go anywhere
Aim for the stars, but you know we're famous here
Rolling around on a ten-dollar rug
Your chin in my collarbone fits like a hand in a glove
Writer(s): Thomas Salter, Scott Helman, Scott Tyler
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