Kinda distant thoughts in my head, farfetched ideas damn i wish i was dead, No one thinks that we will make it anywhere. Really upset now from the stress, sometimes this biz turns into a mess, but the thoughts of fame must keep us here, they can't stand in our way. Wuh oh were not taking in your shit nah no you go i'm getting sick of it, haha laugh it up you synical pricks, yeah so are dreams a haze so deal with it. Well i guess the baggage comes with it, But our true friends think that we're the shit, and maybe someday we'll fucking prove this, We're so happy now for the music, were so grateful now for the chance, and now it's time to prove it.
Lyrics submitted by flashing_green