Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Phoebe Bridgers
Phoebe Bridgers
Vocals
Gabe Noel
Gabe Noel
Bass
Marshall Vore
Marshall Vore
Percussion
Tony Berg
Tony Berg
Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Phoebe Bridgers
Phoebe Bridgers
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tony Berg
Tony Berg
Producer
Ethan Gruska
Ethan Gruska
Producer
Bob Ludwig
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
Mike Mogis
Mike Mogis
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

For a chemical imbalance, you sure know how to ride a train Your revolution is a deathbed and the music is your maid When someone comes a-knockin' with a needle on a tray Only your lonesome lies beside you, for you told me not to stay You are somebody's baby, some mother held you near No, it's not important, they're just pretty words, my dear There is no distraction that can make me disappear No, there's nothing that won't remind you I will always be right here And you spit the blood back Spit the blood back, baby I'm amazed that you're alright Oh, so long, prison boy I won't be home with you tonight We're both very sick, our muscles all worn down It's as if we are one-hundred, know I won't still be around Because I've fallen, yes, I've fallen right into the love I've found Long before I reach one-hundred, I'll have fallen to the ground And for generations, they'll romance us, make us more Or much less than ever was before, The Chelsea and the floor Make us stand before the masses like two speakers for the poor When there was no revolution, nothing we were fighting for And you spit the blood back Spit the blood back, baby I'm amazed that you're alright Oh, so long, prison boy I won't be home, I won't be home I won't be home with you tonight And you can call the service bell When we stay at the Chelsea Hotel And I'll stay out of my own hell Oh, so long, prison boy I won't be home, I won't be home I won't be home with you tonight Tonight
Writer(s): Phoebe Bridgers Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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