Heart Attack Pact - American Diary

Sleep in, call out, we go to class but not to pass

Wake up to make up lines that etch their words to every seam

You see the thing your missing is, I’m so strung out

I’m so god damn addicted, that I panic to get these words out

Swing the mic around, you’ll feel me in the crowd

Oh my god let’s make a point to tear this place down

You can’t help, we can’t help, we can’t help

But get caught up in this madhouse

I’ve stayed up half a year to compose every breathe and every line

I’m just killing time to tell a story of sleeping rare nights

Moonlit street fights, locked in my bedroom with prescriptions

To musicians that no doctor recommends

I’ll die before I try to live a life

That’s the slightest bit different