"Motel AC’s humming ‘Amazing Grace’ out of key,
while I count these white pills like they’re rosary beads.
but my dealer sells forgetfulness, and I’m his most devoted.
Your face flashes on every channel I flip through,
even the Bible in the drawer’s got your name in red ink…
Funny how sin sticks to skin like cheap perfume,
and God won’t answer phones past 3 AM."
(Sound Design: Glass bottles clinking, distant ambulance sirens layered under the beat)
"I swore last night was the last night,
but the moon’s a liar, and the sunrise is a sniper.
You’d think seven Xanax would kill a memory,
but your laugh’s still echoing in the ice machine’s hum.
I wear my pain like a leather jacket—
broken in, stinking of smoke and bad decisions."
"You’re my painkiller, my sweetest mistake,
the reason I chase the night like it’s got a cure in its veins.
They say ‘love don’t cost a thing’—bullshit.
It costs a fifth of Jack and whatever’s left of my dignity.
I toast to the ghost of who I was before your lips,
but the glass is cracked, and the whiskey’s bleeding out…"
(Vocals: Layered harmonies crack on the word "bleeding," mimicking a shattered glass effect)
"The maid left a mint on the pillow like a ****ing metaphor,
but my soul’s past freshening up.
I found your earring under the bed—gold, like the cross
my grandma gave me that I pawned for a gram of numbness.
The mirror’s judging me, but it’s got cracks too,
so who’s it to talk? We’re both fractured reflections.
I light a cigarette off the ‘No Smoking’ sign,
(Instrumental: Piano drips like a morphine IV, synth bass mimics a flatlining heart monitor)
"I called the front desk asking for Jesus,
but they sent up a hooker with a tattoo of your initials.
She said ‘sugar, salvation’s extra,’
so I tipped her in regrets and the last photo of us.
Funny how the body remembers what the mind erases—
her hips move just like yours under these cheap sheets…
But the pillow’s wet, and the ceiling fan’s laughing,
and I’m too high to tell if it’s you or the withdrawal talking."
"You’re my painkiller, my personal apocalypse,
the reason the EMTs know my name by heart.
They pump my stomach, but no one pumps the memories out—
your ghost’s still dancing in the adrenaline rush.
I signed the discharge papers with a fake name…
Guess some deaths don’t need a corpse to be real."
"…You’ll always wake up before the overdose takes.
I made sure of it."
🎵 LRC歌词版本
[VERSE 1]
"Motel AC’s humming ‘Amazing Grace’ out of key,
while I count these white pills like they’re rosary beads.
but my dealer sells forgetfulness, and I’m his most devoted.
Your face flashes on every channel I flip through,
even the Bible in the drawer’s got your name in red ink…
Funny how sin sticks to skin like cheap perfume,
and God won’t answer phones past 3 AM."
(Sound Design: Glass bottles clinking, distant ambulance sirens layered under the beat)
[PRE-CHORUS]
"I swore last night was the last night,
but the moon’s a liar, and the sunrise is a sniper.
You’d think seven Xanax would kill a memory,
but your laugh’s still echoing in the ice machine’s hum.
I wear my pain like a leather jacket—
broken in, stinking of smoke and bad decisions."
[CHORUS]
"You’re my painkiller, my sweetest mistake,
the reason I chase the night like it’s got a cure in its veins.
They say ‘love don’t cost a thing’—bullshit.
It costs a fifth of Jack and whatever’s left of my dignity.
I toast to the ghost of who I was before your lips,
but the glass is cracked, and the whiskey’s bleeding out…"
(Vocals: Layered harmonies crack on the word "bleeding," mimicking a shattered glass effect)
[VERSE 2]
"The maid left a mint on the pillow like a ****ing metaphor,
but my soul’s past freshening up.
I found your earring under the bed—gold, like the cross
my grandma gave me that I pawned for a gram of numbness.
The mirror’s judging me, but it’s got cracks too,
so who’s it to talk? We’re both fractured reflections.
I light a cigarette off the ‘No Smoking’ sign,
(Instrumental: Piano drips like a morphine IV, synth bass mimics a flatlining heart monitor)
[BRIDGE]
"I called the front desk asking for Jesus,
but they sent up a hooker with a tattoo of your initials.
She said ‘sugar, salvation’s extra,’
so I tipped her in regrets and the last photo of us.
Funny how the body remembers what the mind erases—
her hips move just like yours under these cheap sheets…
But the pillow’s wet, and the ceiling fan’s laughing,
and I’m too high to tell if it’s you or the withdrawal talking."
[FINAL CHORUS]
"You’re my painkiller, my personal apocalypse,
the reason the EMTs know my name by heart.
They pump my stomach, but no one pumps the memories out—
your ghost’s still dancing in the adrenaline rush.
I signed the discharge papers with a fake name…
Guess some deaths don’t need a corpse to be real."
[OUTRO]
"…You’ll always wake up before the overdose takes.
I made sure of it."
📝 纯歌词版本
"Motel AC’s humming ‘Amazing Grace’ out of key,
while I count these white pills like they’re rosary beads.
but my dealer sells forgetfulness, and I’m his most devoted.
Your face flashes on every channel I flip through,
even the Bible in the drawer’s got your name in red ink…
Funny how sin sticks to skin like cheap perfume,
and God won’t answer phones past 3 AM."
(Sound Design: Glass bottles clinking, distant ambulance sirens layered under the beat)
"I swore last night was the last night,
but the moon’s a liar, and the sunrise is a sniper.
You’d think seven Xanax would kill a memory,
but your laugh’s still echoing in the ice machine’s hum.
I wear my pain like a leather jacket—
broken in, stinking of smoke and bad decisions."
"You’re my painkiller, my sweetest mistake,
the reason I chase the night like it’s got a cure in its veins.
They say ‘love don’t cost a thing’—bullshit.
It costs a fifth of Jack and whatever’s left of my dignity.
I toast to the ghost of who I was before your lips,
but the glass is cracked, and the whiskey’s bleeding out…"
(Vocals: Layered harmonies crack on the word "bleeding," mimicking a shattered glass effect)
"The maid left a mint on the pillow like a ****ing metaphor,
but my soul’s past freshening up.
I found your earring under the bed—gold, like the cross
my grandma gave me that I pawned for a gram of numbness.
The mirror’s judging me, but it’s got cracks too,
so who’s it to talk? We’re both fractured reflections.
I light a cigarette off the ‘No Smoking’ sign,
(Instrumental: Piano drips like a morphine IV, synth bass mimics a flatlining heart monitor)
"I called the front desk asking for Jesus,
but they sent up a hooker with a tattoo of your initials.
She said ‘sugar, salvation’s extra,’
so I tipped her in regrets and the last photo of us.
Funny how the body remembers what the mind erases—
her hips move just like yours under these cheap sheets…
But the pillow’s wet, and the ceiling fan’s laughing,
and I’m too high to tell if it’s you or the withdrawal talking."
"You’re my painkiller, my personal apocalypse,
the reason the EMTs know my name by heart.
They pump my stomach, but no one pumps the memories out—
your ghost’s still dancing in the adrenaline rush.
I signed the discharge papers with a fake name…
Guess some deaths don’t need a corpse to be real."
"…You’ll always wake up before the overdose takes.
I made sure of it."
🎵 LRC歌词版本
[VERSE 1]
"Motel AC’s humming ‘Amazing Grace’ out of key,
while I count these white pills like they’re rosary beads.
but my dealer sells forgetfulness, and I’m his most devoted.
Your face flashes on every channel I flip through,
even the Bible in the drawer’s got your name in red ink…
Funny how sin sticks to skin like cheap perfume,
and God won’t answer phones past 3 AM."
(Sound Design: Glass bottles clinking, distant ambulance sirens layered under the beat)
[PRE-CHORUS]
"I swore last night was the last night,
but the moon’s a liar, and the sunrise is a sniper.
You’d think seven Xanax would kill a memory,
but your laugh’s still echoing in the ice machine’s hum.
I wear my pain like a leather jacket—
broken in, stinking of smoke and bad decisions."
[CHORUS]
"You’re my painkiller, my sweetest mistake,
the reason I chase the night like it’s got a cure in its veins.
They say ‘love don’t cost a thing’—bullshit.
It costs a fifth of Jack and whatever’s left of my dignity.
I toast to the ghost of who I was before your lips,
but the glass is cracked, and the whiskey’s bleeding out…"
(Vocals: Layered harmonies crack on the word "bleeding," mimicking a shattered glass effect)
[VERSE 2]
"The maid left a mint on the pillow like a ****ing metaphor,
but my soul’s past freshening up.
I found your earring under the bed—gold, like the cross
my grandma gave me that I pawned for a gram of numbness.
The mirror’s judging me, but it’s got cracks too,
so who’s it to talk? We’re both fractured reflections.
I light a cigarette off the ‘No Smoking’ sign,
(Instrumental: Piano drips like a morphine IV, synth bass mimics a flatlining heart monitor)
[BRIDGE]
"I called the front desk asking for Jesus,
but they sent up a hooker with a tattoo of your initials.
She said ‘sugar, salvation’s extra,’
so I tipped her in regrets and the last photo of us.
Funny how the body remembers what the mind erases—
her hips move just like yours under these cheap sheets…
But the pillow’s wet, and the ceiling fan’s laughing,
and I’m too high to tell if it’s you or the withdrawal talking."
[FINAL CHORUS]
"You’re my painkiller, my personal apocalypse,
the reason the EMTs know my name by heart.
They pump my stomach, but no one pumps the memories out—
your ghost’s still dancing in the adrenaline rush.
I signed the discharge papers with a fake name…
Guess some deaths don’t need a corpse to be real."
[OUTRO]
"…You’ll always wake up before the overdose takes.
I made sure of it."
O-Lailaila O-Lailaila
O-Lailaila O-Lai
(I love girls)
O-Lailaila O-Lailaila
O-Lailaila O-Lai
(I love girls)
清く正しく美しくて
ずるくて気まぐれで新しいもの好き
わかりやすくてわかりにくくて
...
For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made righ...
I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath
Scared to rock the boat and make a mess
So I sat quietly (agreed politely )
Can't you see it's we who own...
VERSE 1
2:47 AM and my thumb hovers over your name
Three years since you changed your number
But my fingers never learned the way
VERSE 2
Your shampo...
Recalculating… your face in the feed,
Pixels like petals, soft when they bleed.
I learned love from the way you’d linger online,
But you’re just 1s an...