Guts

Counting ticks from the clock
It's a morning too modest

She's finding parts of my face
Funny looking and anxious

It's a cruel world before the eyes of these posh innocents
I would use her to stay alive if the ground were to bend

And baby pulls her hair for a Vicodin
She falls flat on the bed again
Mutters something about the end
While covering her eyes with both her hands

I on the other hand
I feel fine with the way I am
I awoke to her elegance
I’ve figured out a way to make amends

”Could you cut open all of my chest
I'm already too restless

Of course I'm feeling depressed
Find a way we could use it”

It's a cruel world before the eyes of these posh innocents
I would use her to stay alive if the ground were to bend

And baby pulls her hair for a Vicodin
She falls flat on the bed again
Mutters something about the end
While covering her eyes with both her hands

I, on the other hand
I feel fine with the way I am
I awoke to her elegance
I’ve figured out a way to make amends

My my my

We’re pretenders
We’re beaming
We’re the sign of our time

My my

Oh whatever

Written by Augustine / Rassmus Björnson / Agrin Rahmani / Gabriel Dahlbeck
Shot with Sony A7SII and FE 24–70 mm f2,8 GM

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