zurya montenegro – the comfort of sorrow Lyrics

the comfort of sorrow – zurya montenegro Lyrics

Chatter

Chatter

Chatter, chatter, chatter

You never know what you want

I never know what you on

Maybe we'd be better off

If I just gave it to God (Chatter, chatter)

Maybe I send him to God (Chatter, chatter)

My resume need a pause (Chatter, chatter)

Catching a stray, calling 311

I'm used to leashing a dog

I'm used to, I'm used to leashing a dog

I'm used to, I'm used to, I'm used to leashing a dog

I'm used to, I'm used to speaking a lot

I'm used to, I'm used to sticks in the mud

I'm used to, I'm usеd to watching it burn down

I'm used to, I'm used to falling in love

Chattеr, chatter

All I hear is just chatter, chatter

All I hear is chatter, swinger, need a batter

California common, acting like I had a

Fragile taste for ya, break and let it shatter

You ain't have to eat me, I was on your platter

"Picky Picky," Weki Meki at the matter

Everybody want they pockets looking fatter

I don't get the difference, she don't get the message

I guess she used to the city looking at her

Aren't you tired? Scared to go home

Frivolous child, tell me what you really want

You could inspire, all to your mold

Never expire, everything you'd ever want

Aren't you tired? Scared to go home

Frivolous child, tell me what you really want

You could inspire, all to your mold

Never expire (Let me sit with it for a minute)

So it sat, and I ain't want it back

I'm constantly regurgitating shit you never had

So when the checks deposited, I'm promising I'm at

The furthest fucking place from this city on the map

'Cause I don't ever wanna put my city on the map

And I don't think it's in me to be shittier than that

'Cause when these numbers running, I'ma do it, Peter Pan

That's probably the reason that my comments never land

It's probably the reason that I make my mama mad

'Cause I don't care to listen 'less she's teaching bout the—

Or if I need a lesson how to get a shawty address

"A five-star inn, with a six-fig' bag"

But I'm too locked in to be on 'bout that

And I'm too optimistic to be worried 'bout a has-been

So to all my exes who been biting off my swag

I think you should question if you're worthy of this passion

Aren't you tired? Scared to go home

Frivolous child, tell me what you really want

You could inspire, all to your mold

Never expire, everything you'd ever—