Float to the Top - Microwave

Striking poses in candid throwbacks

Clout-face, love-hungry grins

Dirty laundry in scented trash-bags

Air it out, Let it blow in the wind

Out of scope

I see myself in you though

When we’re down and out we go out

Wake up dried ­up in a wet bed

Two empty fifths and a mouth of chalk

Washed up

Torn up

Disaffected

My friends don’t swim;

we float to the top

Femme fatale with a coke ­glittered glow

Wear a dress

I don’t really care

Trade your hat for a pack of Newports

Get depressed cut off all of your hair

I’ve kept myself a secret

Made it all so cryptic

I hate myself for it

Can’t forgive

Can’t forget

Can’t wear those pants like I used to

Can’t yell as loud as I used to yell

I talk shit at flat on the weekends

You give blood then you give up on yourself

My friends don’t swim;

we float to the top

You give blood then give up on yourself

My friends don’t swim, we float to the…