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Bomb The Music Industry! - King Of Minneapolis, Pts. I And II lyrics
I. DRANK MYSELF TO DEATH
 We got a bottle of Jim Beam and started drinking.
 I drank a liter.
 To distract me from my constant overthinking
 I need a breather.
 You built this up your head. The pressure.
 Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
 Well, I relaxed with liquor.
 The pressure has gone away,
 But baby, I can't see shit.
 It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
 It's not the same to me when
 I finally drank myself to death.
 Enter the shaking, man, I should'va eaten something.
 Enter the crying.
 "My life is useless and I won't amount to nothing."
 Better start dying.
 You built this up your head. The pressure.
 Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
 Well, I relaxed with liquor.
 The pressure has gone away,
 But baby, I can't see shit.
 It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
 Wrap me up in sheets,
 There's nothing left to see here.
 I should be old enough to know (better better)
 And I should be young enough to
 Not take everything so seriously
 I should be smart enough to
 Know that doing this is dangerous
 This mixing anxious energy with
 Drunk ferocious carelessness.
 ???
 I finally drank myself to death.
 I finally drank myself to death.Bomb The Music Industry! - King Of Minneapolis, Pts. I And II - http://motolyrics.com/bomb-the-music-industry/king-of-minneapolis-pts-i-and-ii-lyrics.html
 It's turned to laughs.
 I'm turning red outside on Cedar St.
 It's twenty-two degrees.
 I'm screaming:
 "M-I-N-N-E-A-P-O-L-I-S CAN KISS MY ASS IN HELL"
 I've built you up in my head
 And now you've started a war in my head.
 And the soldiers are falling down.
 And you din't even try to win.
Aw, fuck.
II. TRUE 'TIL COLLEGE
 Get me a friend or a smoke
 Or a hospital or a suicide pill.
 Get me a million dollar record deal
 So I can end this charade.
 Cause I, I keep writing the same song over again,
 Over and over and over and over again.
 Yeah I, I keep writing the same damn song over again.
 Over and over and over and over again.
 And it feels like heroin.
 I just got addicted to
 Demanding your attentio
 For my trite repetition.
 And I can't stop thinking about
 The first songs I ever wrote
 Where I swore off alcohol
 'cause I knew better.
 And I can't stop feeling like
 That "straight edge" shit became a cult
 But I'm kidding myself by believing
 That the bar scene is any better.
 And I, I keep writing the same damn song over again.
 Over and over and over and over again.
 And it feels like there's nothing left at all.









