It hasn’t rained yet, but it’s coming
The air is New Orleans in the summer
Been told I shouldn’t say the place and names
But if you leave out all the details, isn’t everything the same?

We’ve all got bad habits, have some damn good times
Maybe we broke some hearts and wasted some daylight
We probably should know better by now
But old habits die hard and we’re still walking around

Almost nobody cares about what you feel
Only what you accomplish becomes real
Still I’ve been crippled by my anxiety
But I guess it’s better to be wrong in the pursuit of being free

I’ve heard the chains of habit are too weak to be felt
Until they’re too strong to be broken, but I’m not sure how that helps