Michel - Waxahatchee

Hands under my clothes

You can’t let it go

You set it up masterfully

And then blame it all on me

Cynicism smothering

Planted, blossoming in me

Our fun is toxic and bold

Embellished and oversold

Embody me because I am weak

And I moved out but I never opened my mouth

I never opened my mouth

It’s late

I’m up on the roof

In New York and I hung up on you

I can’t pay for the mistakes I made

So I’ll just let this die and decay