Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up, the party’s over now Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up! You got so good at drinking alone It's like going to the party, but you don't need to find an Uber home But still, you find yourself stuck in your best friend's living room Oh no, let's go home Oh no, you wanna go Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up, the party’s over now Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up! Cry in your corner, nobody likes you anyway You social introvert, what are you thinking? You are right in the deep end Oh no, let’s go home You want to leave the party, you're not moving They come over, "What you doing?" Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up, the party’s over Ooh, I feel a little left out I was filling up your glass, found a cup Get up, the party’s over Seems every weekend we go braindead to forget Then we forget why we went braindead to forget why we went braindead Seems every weekend we go braindead to forget Then we forget why we went braindead to forget why we went braindead And I love the way light does the shimmer, sight gets dimmer, walls start to move And the way you look is so enticing, I sit underneath the stairs at the party and think I just think, I just think, "What do you think?"

Every night you've been seeping through my seams Forcing yourself into every dream We sit and we talk about the most mundane things Being alone when I'm by myself is boring I'd much rather have you with me Even if no one was speaking Asinine homies in my blood I'd much rather have you with me Even if no one was speaking Asinine homies in my blood Five out of four stars, the rating system says you are An anomaly, living edit wrong Finger on the trigger, but the gun is gone The pulse it has moved on, the pulse it has moved on I'd much rather have you with me Even if no one was speaking Asinine homies in my blood I'd much rather have you with me Even if no one was speaking Asinine homies in my blood

Wafting fumes: Juniper gin sits in Your dead-end jowls. Sift through the hours Baby, what's your memory like? Do the emotions spike? When you get out of bed and go do something Do you wish you were all by your lonesome then? I feel alive Waiting for sunrise On Scenic Drive Another yellow ribbon tied to a tree As you stumble home up the hill from The Party "Hey fucker over there, are you looking at me?" No, it's just a bush but you fight and scream Finger grazed leaves, I picture Pennywise Through stuttered soupy eyes you spy There in your front porch, arms held wide Drunk and defeated in your bed, you hide I feel alive Waiting for sunrise On Scenic Drive

Because I've been walking on my own Wrapped inside this misty telephone And I've been feeling all alone Peach Pit put on repeat until I get home At the roundabout at 2am, falling over statuettes of bacteria The photos we take tonight will be in-jokes no one else will like I’d be sorry for wasting your time, but I’m just as wasted as yours 20 minutes later you’re halfway home, and I’m cuddled up and dreaming indoors At the roundabout at 2am At the roundabout by 2 And I've been walking on my own Wrapped inside this misty telephone Because I've been feeling all alone Peach Pit put on repeat until I get home At the roundabout at 4am, I’m not alone so it's not insomnia It’s just a bad decision on my part. You're nothing more than an inevitability If I could give in, I wouldn't be walking round and round Around again: The roundabout – until I ditch my friends At the roundabout by 4

They always talk to me, they’re always asking me: “What have you been doing for the last three years?” I think: Nothing, slowly, sinking, I lie Working, uni, no sleep, I try I am productive, I followed all my dreams When I see all these people, why is it few and far between Don’t tell me your lies Give me some of you I don’t care about the filthy rich boomers’ advice I never learn, it seems. That bus it always leaves Every single morning for the past 6 years Opportunity gives off that once in a lifetime vibe Late at night, caught in your deer headlights Don’t tell me your lies Give me some of you I don’t care about the filthy rich boomers’ advice Squeeze the mint from its plastic encasement Slip from the lips to the tongue as it guides past your canines Over to their much sturdier cousins Feel the pressure proceed to a crunch The saliva oozes from your pores Freezes cold where once it was warm Now it feels fresh, all minty and clean But it's a placebo pill, all flavoured and mean Don’t tell me your lies Give me some of you I don’t care about the filthy rich boomers’ advice