Oh that coco is not for you guys
It's for me and my friend
Under candlelight drinking warm 40 ounces
And wishing that we where dead

Oh the seasons pass and
I can't love anybody besides myself
Myself x3
I don't need anyone's help

The smell of burnt matches are erotic
When I'm towards my wits end
But loving someone else
Is almost impossible to pretend

Turing in my service at 7/11
Because the store clerk burns another hole in my stomach
My patience is drying once again
The prostitutes around the corner are not 27

Oh the seasons pass and
I can't love anybody besides myself
Myself x3
I don't need anyone's help

I am definitely not a better man
I certainly need time
Over and over again

But like I said
Where a pair of unsober mess
So I present you with this lucky clover