Everything Is Okay

by See You At Home

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03:13

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a collection of songs about overthinking

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released December 1, 2015

jw / ad

mastered by Space Magnetic Studio
contact them at: space-magnetic.com

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See You At Home London, UK

jw / ad

sad songs & stuff

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Track Name: Cherry Blossoms
I’m living in a silence that deafens like screams,
taking joy in tearing the cloth from the seams,
I want to fight someone that deserves it,
get hurt and feel like I have a purpose.
It’ll be much better than feeling nervous.
Track Name: At Least The Weather's Nice
I remember warmth
in my hands from years long ago,
and now they only ever feel so cold.
Ice and fear from wrist to fingertip,
perhaps the fibres in my heart
are wearing thin.

My body is distraught,
so fed up with my skin.
My body is distraught,
so fed up.

I’m coming down with something
and I’m breaking from nothing.
I’m coming down with something
and I’m breaking from nothing.
But at least the weather’s nice.
At least the weather’s nice.
Track Name: Postmodern Art
I never really wanted to go back
and now all I ever do is lose control.
My feet are worn, and there are cuts on my heels,
soak it in alcohol, let it burn.

Let it burn.

I’m fixing door frames
but breaking at the hinges.
I’m changing tyres of cars
with broken engines.
I’m torn paper taped together.
I’m torn paper taped together.

It’s starting to consume me,
but I will fight to stay afloat.
They’re taking pliers to my teeth
and I haven’t slept in weeks.

I need some kind of release
I need some form of release
I need some kind release
I need relief.

I’m fixing door frames
but breaking at the hinges.
I’m changing tyres of cars
with broken engines.
I’m torn paper taped together.
I’m torn paper taped together.

It’s glass shards in the carpet,
cyanide in apples.
I'm bottles about to burst,
if I snap I’m sorry.
I never meant for you to
see me like this.
Track Name: Empty Frames
I’m replaying the past, but the filters are hazy,
blurring out images
of things I held dear to me.

I keep relighting the fire, it clings to my clothes.
Holds me closer, holds me closer
holds me closer, holds me closer,
and doesn’t let go.

My skin is potent gasoline,
my words are the purest oxygen.
But sure enough, but sure enough
but sure enough, but sure enough,
I’ll burn out again.

It’s 2:37, October twenty second, and I’m so tired.