Honda Civic - Work Tape - Armors

Can’t dance myself clean enough to feel like a real person

Now Frances is my Frisco, she plays volleyball at Yale

Took a hit from a stranger, so I got her email

It won’t even matter which photographs I like

She’ll just stay on my phone, 'til she forgets that I’m alive

I hate the way I am, and I hate the way things are

Maybe singing, thinking, walking to my car

What’s the point of dancing

If I just go home alone

In my Honda Civic

I don’t even fucking own?

Seems all my good intentions

Are just drying up with age

So if I die alone

I’ll only have myself to blame

I had a few more, now she smokes, it’s ringing in my ear

She said that she likes singing in the spirit, Ever clear

Definitely not touched someone, or actually play it cool

Fuck my insecurities, and fuck this fucking fool

Now I’m doing 90, and it’s 3 o’clock at night

And I feel like a piece of shit for speeding, fuck my life

'Cause I don’t wanna be out, and I don’t want to be home

Just looking for some danger, to pretend that I have grown

What’s the point of dancing

If I just go home alone

In my Honda Civic

I don’t even fucking own?

Seems all my good intentions

Are just drying up with age

So if I die alone

I’ll only have myself to blame

I may not be in love with you but flirt and play pretend

Meet you in New Haven, introduce me to your friends

Take me to a party where I will not do some drugs

Run into the bathroom with an everlasting shrug

And when it all is over and you’re nowhere to be found

I’ll find myself singing to a thirty-person crowd

A ballad or a eulogy, who really gives a fuck?

'Cause if I die alone, it will not be because of luck

What’s the point of dancing

If I just go home alone

In my Honda Civic

I don’t even fucking own?

Seems all my good intentions

Are just drying up with age

So if I die alone

I’ll only have myself to blame