Wonder why I'm always getting stuck defending Clayton?
Pull him out of corners he backed into on his own
Help me out when hot-potato honesty destroys me
All the pain as I explain my hands so badly burned
Close your tab up
Brand new mantra:
I'm alright to know
So you find his songs contrived and hastily assembled
Scrambled eggs that never leave the incubation stage
Wonder if you ever googled "confirmation bias"
And applied it to that list of albums that you made?
Have some heart now
Have some heart!
Or fake it kindly:
You're all alright to know
Did you want to lose?
Were you wanting foes?
Every time you limped into a show?
Did you want the crew?
Is this what you chose?
Is this what you desperately invoked?
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