Hit Mix

Hit Mix
(Words and Music by: Z. Walters)
Preachy bout a falsehood trade
counting fingers, bout the lot you made
nonchalant don’t care look plastic smile
laughin to the bank with shag hairstyle
catch myself looking around
stuck in the shallow end and it’s makin me drown
lick your finger, and hold it to the sky
grab your sail man and raise it real high, cause

eh, who you think you’re foolin’
eh, who you think you’re foolin’
use it abuse it everytime I swear you bruise it
generically rich with your music
and tears fall when you lose it
turning you on is like a bite from a shark
bet you’d go pop cause your hollow no heart
rooftop, we’re looking down
watching your red flowers turn brown
hit mix, it’s your profession
don’t confuse passion with obses