Flies On Tape

I could lay here all day and still feel the same

Rest doesn't help when it's used this way

So my friends drink fluids until they're stomachs divide

While trying to kill something else on the inside

So I sit around and trace all these new lines on my face

Yeah, I might be the line, but all these end up in the same place

Lucky, lucky, I'd rather be, lucky

Than good, yeah good at anything, anything

Winter's cutting under everyone's skin again

Now I'm seeing zombie versions of my friends

So I drink fluids until my limbs thaw out

The snow may have melted, but the trash had came out

So I sit around and trace, but always ends up in the same place

Lucky, lucky, I'd rather be, lucky

Than good, yeah good at anything, anything

Natural selection tends to me

I miss a curve

A cold starved hand tangles me

Over what I deserve

Lucky, lucky, I'd rather be, lucky

Than good, yeah good at anything, anythin