Chelsea - Phoebe Bridgers

For a chemical imbalance

You sure know how to ride a train

Your revolution is a deathbed

And the music is your maid

When someone comes a-knockin'

With a needle on a tray

Only your lonesome lies beside you

For you told me not to stay

You are somebody’s baby

Some mother held you near

No, it’s not important, they’re just pretty words, my dear

There is no distraction that can make me disappear

No, there’s nothing that won’t remind you

I will always be right here

And you spit the blood back

Spit the blood back, baby

I’m amazed that you’re alright

Oh, so long, prison boy

I won’t be home with you tonight

We’re both very sick, our muscles are worn down

It’s as if we are one-hundred, know I won’t still be around

Because I’ve fallen

Yes, I’ve fallen right into the love I’ve found

Long before I reach one-hundred

I’ll have fallen to the ground

And for generations, they’ll romance us, make us more

Or much less than ever was before

The Chelsea and the floor

Make us stand before the masses

Like two speakers for the poor

When there was no revolution

Nothing we were fighting for

And you spit the blood back

Spit the blood back, baby

I’m amazed that you’re alright

Oh, so long, prison boy

I won’t be home, I won’t be home

I won’t be home with you tonight

And you can call the service bell

When we stay at the Chelsea Hotel

And I’ll stay out of my own hell

Oh, so long, prison boy

I won’t be home, I won’t be home

I won’t be home with you tonight

Tonight