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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Alex Gaskarth
Vocals
Jack Barakat
Guitar
Rian Dawson
Drums
Zack Merrick
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Butch Walker
Songwriter
Jack Barakat
Songwriter
Rian Dawson
Songwriter
Alex Gaskarth
Songwriter
Zack Merrick
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Butch Walker
Producer
Ted Jensen
Mastering Engineer
Tom Lord-Alge
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Oh my God, I'm such a terrible mess
I'm turned on by the tabloids
You would never have guessed
That I'm a sucker for their gossip
Man, I take it too far
I bottle up my Hollywood
And watch 'em name their kids after cars
I'm finding me out
I'm having my doubts
I'm losing the best of me
We're all part of the same
Sick, little games
And I need a getaway, getaway
I'm wasting my days
I throw them away
Losing it all on these sick, little games
I fell in love
She was the friend of a sister
Of somebody famous
At least for a day
Expensive habits and a taste for the town
Had me chasin' down red carpets
And watching all my friends slip away
They're finding me out
I'm having my doubts
I'm losing the best of me
Dressed up as myself
To live in the shadow
Of who I'm supposed to be
We're all part of the same
Sick, little games
And I need a getaway, getaway
I'm wasting my days
I throw them away
Losing it all on these sick, little games
If I play my cards right
I could make the big time
I could be a reason to stare
Caught up in the spotlight
Shaking from the stage fright
How did I end up here?
All part of the same
Sick little games
And I need a getaway (getaway, getaway)
We're all part of the same
Sick, little games
And I need a getaway, getaway
I'm wasting my days
I throw them away
Losing it all on these sick, little games
We're all part of the same
Sick, little games
And I need a getaway, getaway (getaway, getaway, getaway)
Writer(s): Butch Walker, Alexander William Gaskarth, Robert Ryan Dawson, Jack Bassam Barakat, Zachary Steven Merrick
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