soft young mess
I am a soft young mess, screaming shards through painted green water. Let genius be vividly wasted, free and empty, (i'm) drugged (i'm) on blue
bottles of reasons i kept int he freezer
they won’t they leave me alone
and with these old reasons of bottled up feelings, I won’t be leaving them alone
what is in it? I’m always back for more
oh whiskey and wine, you mess with my mind.
bottles of reasons have now reached the ceiling
it’s hard to hide it, i’ll hide behind it for now
