Text: Can't Sing For Shit. Other. Three Days At A Time.

You're disappearing again three days at time. The cure won't understand abstinence and overall desistance. Suffices never as long. Keep away the old untouched pieces of film still looking back at my wandering mind, crushed into, crashed into the pillow. The things that don't drip from my cheeks will turn into the muddy holes that shield my feet

(Thanks to recipesfordisaster for these lyrics)