The Flat Mars Society - Dead Inside

You give me the run around
Its always this
Its always that
You come around and always bitch
I'm on the brink
I'm running out of scotch to drink
And so I'll pour another round
And start to sink inside this glass
Cause I'm dead inside
I cook some ramen noodles in the dead of night
Let's light a joint or two to help us pass the time
But it won't fuckin help me, no I can't get high
Think I lost my mind
You give me the run around
Its always this
Its always that
You come around and always bitch
I'm on the brink
I'm running out of scotch to drink
And so I'll pour another round
And start to sink inside this glass
Cause I'm dead inside
I cook some ramen noodles in the dead of night
Let's light a joint or two to help us pass the time
But it won't fuckin help me, no I can't get high
Think I lost my mind
Saturday night and I'm faded
I'm cooking the yakisoba with the steak
And the egg over top of it
I make a lot of it
I eat it often enough that I honestly probably should switch it up
And chef some different stuff
But at this point its sort of habitual
Plus I'm a lazy fuck who's just indifferent
And likes to be miserable
Mostly its principle
Plus its like 50 cents
So I can pay the rent
And still get shoes
I need 'em to run 'way from you
Cause you're in the past
And I'm getting lapped
I'm playing the fool
And it seems like the more that I try to forget
The more that these memories stuck in my head
This is the stuff got me lying in bed
While I'm trying to sleep but I'm dying instead
Cause I'm
Dead inside
I cook some ramen noodles in the dead of night
Let's light a joint or two to help us pass the time
But it won't fuckin help me, no I can't get high
Think I lost my mind
You give me the run around
Its always this
Its always that
You come around and always bitch
I'm on the brink
I'm running out of scotch to drink
And so I'll pour another round
And start to sink inside this glass
Always make mistakes I wonder
How far til I start to sink
Hold my breath I'm going under
Fill my cup and take a drink
Wasted off these conversations
All that's left is contemplation
Empty bottles hit the ground
But something's breaking first
All of these mistakes I wonder
How far down until the brink
Running out of breath I'm under
Empty glasses in the sink
Wasted every conversation
All that's left is complications
Broken bottles all around
This never seems to work

Written by:
Ben Kauffman, Jonathan Farrington

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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