whose - chex mix lyrics
chex mix lyrics
[intro: whose]
we are gonna do this in pieces
because i am
a piece of sh+t
i wonder if ill keep that in
i’ll send it to him
see what he thinks
he might like it
whose
[verse: whose]
i don’t rock with neurotypicals
can’t spend time with one who sees me as invisible
the endless p+ssy puddle that i step my toes upon
got me filled with wonder, pondering if i am strong at all
i find myself laughing at the cards that i’ve been dealt
why do i put the ice on fire knowing it will melt
i try and fail to go after women with outer sh+lls
my limbs can’t lift up my bar, it’s in hеll
what a shame
a bartender who ovеr pours
every drink he serves to his clients in the morgue
don’t worry bout the tab, just worry bout the cork
it can hit you in your eye and you’ll forget what you saw
best jab, death cab, hex chick
fred macs red flag checklist
send bad text that gets left on read
fire fire, looking for the exit
it’s all a bag of chex mix
[hook: the thought]
it ain’t nothing but a bag of chex mix
a mandatory part of a balanced breakfast
you either lie right through them or their too busy chewing
i learned the rules before i knew my directions
so i grew up losing out to depression
now i set the suture with the music that i use for therapeutics
when perusing for some food look what i get
chex mix
[verse: whose]
i don’t rock with narcissists
already spent my time switching pods to fit
preposterous, i know you can’t exist for another man
most stories that i boast, are a hoax like the son of sam
i work to lessen my connection to my foolish pride
i know the best ways if i choose to try suicide
but my family needs me so i just suivibe
i think my cousin still upholds me as the coolest guy
but it is what it is, you gotta get it how you live
when i was six i said “i get it! i don’t really wanna live”
held fire i was singed, but wasn’t burnt, what’s the sitch
only burn the bridge if you can fly or you can swim
keep the hat brim low as i walk through the store
a twisted tea and a big bag of funyuns for the road
if it glitters, it ain’t gold, it’s been sold
[hook: the thought]
it ain’t nothing but a bag of chex mix
a mandatory part of a balanced breakfast
you either lie right through them or their too busy chewing
i learned the rules before i knew my directions
so i grew up losing out to depression
now i set the suture with the music that i use for therapeutics
when perusing for some food look what i get
chex mix
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