Sweet Weapons - The Big Green текст песни

You're a constant cold
camped in my head
A fever dream, an apparition
So, I'm going deep
to catch my death,
the best I hope for

You suck your teeth while I just bite my tongue
and never breathe another word

Might be the one you want
to be there,
but not the one you want

Air tastes so stale
outside your lungs
It's a constant breeze,
a cold reminder
that I waste my time
thinking things might change
They'll never change, will they?