B.F.F.

Cheap white wine, am faded again
There's nobody on the line
And another life I'll beat you again
Looking sharp, living clean
I guess I thought for some silly reason
I could always go back there

Hardly you wanna hear what's to run anymore
There already caught up in the globalist
Like trapped in a bag bunch of plastic bullshit didn't die
I can bear humus here in my mind to a giant fish fry

Oh yeah, back on my bullshit I feel it myself
I have my own supply, stay up all night long
Smoking dope, writing songs
I guess it's really just a case of do or die

So bring me the head of John Mayer
And all the other charion posters
And the the online designer ta-da

Yeah bring back sixty for the non existent
Kinda culture hoodie
Which are these whole fuckin' things she done
To her beautiful fish fry
Oh the big fish fry, oh my

I can hear the frozen fernace
Loose her ship to those are innocence
How long ago?
So long ago aah

Yes I was vague to play, ego was eating me alive
I was living a bullfaced life
And am scared of epice scenes
Doings interviews on the magazines
Making weekend trips to the bullified world at country side
Ooh at country side ooh aah

Can we recover from this?
Do we lose our home do we lose our innocence?
Long ago, so long ago
So long ago, so long ago
So long ago, so Iong ago
So long ago, so long ago

(Oh my God where are my.)
(Go get it!)
(Wow! Is this bread on a freaky)
(Is it, is it? They brought us aah bread on ah)
(Fuck! I don't know what the fuck am saying)
(On what? Bread on what?)