Dropshipped Cat Shirt Songtext
von Wilbur Soot

Skinny jeans on the bench press
You burn the candle at both ends
If anyone ask why
Then they′re not worth your time

Why am I so out of breath?
Club sandwich pressed in north end
Grittled shank on rye
A gunshot at half-time

Adoration of the mystic land
That idea of me, who was that man?
A wooly picket line
Intestinal red wine


Now it's hard not to suspect
Your lying tell is bated breath
I inhale for suspense
You triggered my mammalian sighing reflex

So I take everything as a lesson
Something I trained out of myself
With mindless self-indulging confidence
Indulge me in whatever quick release I could muster

Social media, carbohydrates and cannabis
The world was my oyster
And I was the knife by which they′d shuck
But now he's dead, he's gone
I fucking start anew
I′m a developmental beast, wrong version of myself

16 bathrooms, 16 bedrooms, 16 fridges
64-bit computers, 15 of them
Oh, how nice it must be
To feel so bored


I just need to find someone to tell me
I′m just tired