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lyrics
So, I’m sick of my own shit
that I can’t seem to be done with.
It’s my own fault, my own fault, my own fault:
all the sad poems that I can’t finish.
So, I need to say,
that as of today, I’m throwing you away.
‘Cause you were my favorite sin,
but here is your end.
Oh, no. I know.
You can’t even admit
that some of my flaws I inherit.
Your own faults, your own faults, your own faults
that you taught me to begin with.
So, then you said,
“Will, this, this is all in your head.”
But it’s not this time,
‘cause our neuroses, well, they align.
Oh, no. I know.
Goddamn, it’s about time.
credits
from
Good Lord, It's Cold,
released September 30, 2012
All songs © 2012 Loud Poetry music, ASCAP.
All songs and lyrics written, performed, and recorded by William Fargason.
Cover photo by William Fargason.
All rights reserved.
These songs were recorded between March and September of 2012.
license
all rights reserved