Fuck the projects, billions rhyme, billions smile and cheat they're way through everything in every way.

It makes a lot of sense to me. You make a lot of sense to me, walking to the left of the sidewalk, just in case someone else wants by.

To stand your ground and know you're right.

Backing down to make the other lose.

You're so perfect when you wipe the sleep from your eyes,

fall asleep, and those thighs.

And there are 100 million ways of changing every sentence around. A billion little symphonies that are over dramatic and phony.

A little sparkle in your eye, and it's just the world to me.

It's just the whole damn world.

And I love you more like the stars, except when they seem way too far.

Too bad we can't ever be, the place mat's friend, you and me.

And 60 million views is never enough for me, the fights, the scene, a ton of suckers can't see.

I'll never be the me be. That I probably should be. Without me the me's are all that we're left to be.

I can't fight the feeling when the and's don't bite, and the ends that meet are commas and rights.

The way you're fucking hair moves, the way your head tilts and it's nothing.

It's really nothing.

There's a million more ways of saying goodbye, a million more than our edits explore.

And I'm sure they're is some way of setting the score, bloodshot eyes, a monster truck, some pink and yellow bows.

I'm sure you are set out to be what you can hardly even see.

I wish you existed it'd be fucking BLISS. I even gave you traits like a human, fuck ups, and burn outs, and the effing drama.

You're real, but you're not really, and that's what I mean.

Because you're everybody to me.