LOSIN’ MY MIND

God, I should hand it to you.

Mr.

Cool Guy with all of your stupid tattoos and your shit attitude. But I was young and dumb, easy to make me a fool.

You get me so blind because you always forget to turn off the lights.

Sorry to pop your balloon, but I can't be your mommy and your girlfriend too. We fuck, then we fight.

You get high, drive yourself to the bar at night.

I pick your sorry ass up 'cause you can't drive. We play this shit on loop about a thousand times. I swear to God

I'm losing my. . .

My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye.

My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye.

You're coming home, then putting on a show.

Wake the neighbors 'til they're banging on the floor.

You think I haven't heard this all before. Mr. Cool Guy, wish you never left New York.

I can't even go to my favorite bar without seeing your face on the fucking wall and your friends thinking it's all my fault.

They're whispering, "She's such a bitch, a narcissist, so ignorant. " Use me as a party trick. You scream my name, yeah, now they listen.

We fuck, then we fight. You get high, drive yourself to the bar at night.

I pick your sorry ass up 'cause you can't drive.

We play this shit on loop about a thousand times. I swear to God I'm losing my. . .

My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye.

My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye.

Oh, I. . .

My-ya-e-ya-e-ya, e-ya-e-ya-e-ya, e-ya-e-ya-e-ya.

My-ya-e-ya-e-ya, e-ya-e-ya-e-ya, e-ya-e-ya-e-ya.

You're a 29, ain't gonna piss me off. I'm 'bout to cut you off, so go ahead and get a fucking job.

You're a 29, ain't gonna piss me off. I'm 'bout to cut you off, so time to get a fucking job.

We fuck, then we fight. You get high, drive yourself to the bar at night.

I pick your sorry ass up 'cause you can't drive.

We play this shit on loop about a thousand times. I swear to God I'm losing my. . .

My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye. My-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya, my-ya-e-ya-a-aye.

I swear to God I'm losing my mind.