Did The Cubs Just Win The World Series?

I let my hair down again

I feel relaxed, my hands grip less in air that's colder



Basing off

Of things I can't afford

I can feel the way a bank account

Is poorly painted red right by a store



You let your face fall, again

You feel my hands across tour skin as you roll over



I slept it off

You can't understand control

Overconfidence diluted

I'm not upset anymore, I just feel sore