It's true. I don't like you. The favorite words of the modern man. The favorite words of the modern woman.
Inside glass halls, empty seats. Is this (a vice device), E T C? The warm fit of the control crown myth. A perfect fear. To watch, and to being watched. To the sound we make. Endlessly. Paint the mirror there, R E D. For that perfect fear. We draw the lines, we plot the angles.
We got the lines, to live by. Those sort of lights are sort of fading. An ending I can live by. Inhale.
Traps PS - Imprint Lyrics
Traps PS - Imprint Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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It's true. I don't like you. The favorite words of the modern man. The favorite words of the modern woman.
Inside glass halls, empty seats. Is this (a vice device), E T C? The warm fit of the control crown myth. A perfect fear. To watch, and to being watched. To the sound we make. Endlessly. Paint the mirror there, R E D. For that perfect fear. We draw the lines, we plot the angles.
We got the lines, to live by. Those sort of lights are sort of fading. An ending I can live by. Inhale.
Inside glass halls, empty seats. Is this (a vice device), E T C? The warm fit of the control crown myth. A perfect fear. To watch, and to being watched. To the sound we make. Endlessly. Paint the mirror there, R E D. For that perfect fear. We draw the lines, we plot the angles.
We got the lines, to live by. Those sort of lights are sort of fading. An ending I can live by. Inhale.
Writer: DAVID BOWDEN, GREGG STEVEN WATTENBERG, JESSE FINKELSTEIN, JORDAN RAND MILLER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Spirit Music Group, Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Spirit Music Group, Downtown Music Publishing
Performed By: Traps PS
Length: 2:06
Written by: DAVID BOWDEN, GREGG STEVEN WATTENBERG, JESSE FINKELSTEIN, JORDAN RAND MILLER