Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Aaron Short
Keyboards
Thomas Powers
Vocals
Alisa Xayalith
Vocals
Jesse Wood
Drums
David Beadle
Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Aaron Short
Songwriter
Thomas Powers
Songwriter
Alisa Xayalith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Aaron Short
Producer
Olly Harmer
Additional Engineer
Thomas Powers
Producer
Billy Bush
Mixing Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Emily Lazar
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
All of my dreams tear at the seams
Frayed all over the place
Thought it was good, everything where it should be
Around me
[Verse 2]
All that depends on where it ends
It ends
Did you pretend, or maybe not comprehend?
Procrastination, baby, are you agitated lately?
[Verse 3]
Cut it up, it's fucked, you say it's useless
Just a couple figures for the different uses
Here it comes, the sum of all excuses
Easier to stay, the old refuses
[Verse 4]
Today, today, you say it's useless
(Spread it thin, make it bend)
Just a couple figures for the different uses
(Help me save him, make the ends)
[Verse 5]
Here it comes, the sum of all excuses
(I got things to feed, to reimburse)
And where did you think I got these bruises?
(And I'm sick, I'm alone and it's getting worse)
[Verse 6]
Cut it up, it's fucked, you say it's useless
(Spread it thin, make it bend)
Just a couple figures for the different uses
(Help me save him, make the ends)
[Verse 7]
Here it comes, the sum of all excuses
(I got things to feed, to reimburse)
Where did you think I got these bruises?
(And he's sick, I'm alone and it's getting worse)
[Verse 8]
Today, today, you say it's useless
(Spread it thin, make it bend)
Just a couple figures for the different uses
(Help me save him, make the ends)
[Verse 9]
Here it comes, the sum of all excuses
(I got things to feed, to reimburse)
Where did you think I got these bruises?
(And he's sick, I'm alone and it's getting worse)
[Verse 10]
Today, today, you say it's useless
(Spread it thin, make it bend)
Just a couple figures for the different uses
(Help me save him, make the ends)
[Verse 11]
Here it comes, the sum of all excuses
(I got things to feed, to reimburse)
Where did you think I got these bruises?
(And he's sick, I'm alone and it's getting worse)
Written by: Aaron Short, Alisa Xayalith, Thomas Powers