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lyrics

Titles are meaningless compliments.
Two cent words being spat into a jar.

I'm not bothered at all.
It's cool green fields I belong in.

Try so hard not to smile,
With all these things I never hold back,
I never hold back.

Fall backward,
Sleep longer,
Far away,
You and me.

Flying through the sun,
I'm fucking done.
Say goodbye to everyone,
Cause I'm fucking done.

credits

from Everything Is Made Up And Nothing Matters, released July 25, 2014

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

P.S. 118 Hamilton Township, New Jersey

Three dudes playin some noodle indie shit in a tiny room.

We all play everything, except Nick who is the only one who knows anything about drums.

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