I’m a slave to always fucking up. It’s not okay, but maybe it’s enough. Kids like us are weird, and more, we’re brave. We tie our tongues and turn them into rage. And the night’s still young. And we’re dumb enough to fall. Carve your name soft across my lungs. I want to breathe you until I’m numb. We’re not loved, well, hardly, anyway, with filthy luck in such a filthy haze. But the night’s still young. And we’re dumb enough to fall. Turn the amps up to nine. I don’t want it too loud. I gave you taste and a spine, now I hope you drown. Is there a lie in the lights or the shine of this town? This guitar wants to die.
Beach Slang - Filthy Luck