The dead deads

Headcase

The dead deads
I’m not so sentimental
Some say I don’t remember shit
My banged-up brain shows up to quit
So don’t give me your number
That’s just more math I might forget
I don’t feel bad–I just feel sick

My soul regret
I never found a helmet

I get banged and beat up
True love drop dead deluxe
I’m a headcase
Gotta blow me away
I get fazed
It’s too much
True love give me double or nothing
I’m a headcase
Gotta blow me away

Cuts scratches scrapes and bruises
Sweet kisses skull contusions
Each hiccup hurts about the same
Head down and swallow harder
Will my migraines make me smarter
Cuz I try but I don’t remember why I came

My soul regret
I never found a helmet

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