I feel sad about endings It's in the existential sort of sad Like when it's too humid for your hair It's hard to keep brushing your teeth Cause you're a fucking poet

You gotta be writing poetry while you're trying to fucking brush your teeth

I guess it's because every time something ends Remind you, everything has to end This may be your last time with these people This might be your last time in this place This might be the last time you are this person

One day will be a bitter version of yourself You know this We fight to ward off that day All versions of ourselves It's nice finding a mirror that actually lets us see ourselves

I feel sad, my sweet love Come, won't you give me succor I feel sad, my sweet lover Come, let me home.