I'd Rather Be With Them - 7 Layers Session

Stale tongues, the words have gone
 And all we've left is smoky spit and heavy lungs
 And I don't want to talk it through
 When my head hurts and I hate you
 So make me throw up
 I know that you will
 And wake up my mother and tell her I'm ill
 It's all coming out now, black, brown
 Wine and bile
 
 Salty eyes and frothy lips
 Your teeth are bared and champing at the fucking bit
 Leaning on the window
 When you point down and you let go
 And say "look at the people
 Crawling like insects
 All over the pavement"
 I'd rather be with them
 'Cause I just hate this room, it smells like you
 Yeah, yeah
 Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh
 Yeah, yeah
 Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh
 Leave it on, I like this song
 And when it ends, you really must be getting on
 And the needle clicks after an hour
 And you look back and the door slams
 I'm so fucking heartless
 I can't even cry
 I've opened my body, it's hollow inside
 So ring up my parents
 And tell them I'm dead
 And say how you got me
 And fucked with my head
 And I just hate your hair
 And the clothes you wear
 And I just love your hair
 And the clothes you wear
 Yeah, yeah
 Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh
 Yeah, yeah
 Ooh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh