Press My Luck
Blake Matthew Simon Mills, Christopher Michael Weisman
When you moved you made me
Clean up after your ass
And under all that clutter
Was straight-up broken glass
Don't worry
I won't press my luck
I know things get clearer
When they're fucked
Another wildfire season
Ripping through the face
And I'm almost getting used to
The futuristic hellscapes
Don't worry
I won't press my luck
Things start getting clearer
When they're fucked, whoa
Robot arms can't hold me
The healing was a scam
And someone checks my vitals
But think I'm dying, man
Don't worry
I won't press my luck
I know things get clearer
When they're fucked, whoa
When you moved you left me
Burned another bridge
Carloads off to donate
Fucking garbage in the fridge
Don't worry
I won't press my luck
No, things start getting clearer
When they're fucked, whoa