artist: waxahatchee

bathtub
  • bathtub
  • Waxahatchee
  • American Weekend
Play

Take my word for it, I’m not worth it
I ignored you all night and you don’t deserve it
Morning, bathtub, my skin soft and hot
I was sure you were right but you’re not
I contemplate my ruined fate
Someone will hurt me so bad one day
And you’ll resonate or I’ll apologize
Or maybe I’ll make the same mistake twice
I hide from phone calls under the warm water
Malice desists, no it woefully recurs
And it plays like daytime TV shows, I confuse you
and I tell you not to love me
But I still kiss you when I want to
And I lament, you’re innocent
But somehow the object of my discontent
And it’s fucked up, I let you in
Even though I’ve seen what can happen
You make a tape, receive it in the mail
And I force myself busy, the diversion will prevail
And I will swallow all my guilt with little pills and forge my chin up
And I will only think about it in the morning, in the bathtub

  • Clumsy
  • Waxahatchee
  • Nervous Energies Session
Play

It’s trivia, the tangles in my hair.
Winter hat on my bedroom floor,
next to your underwear.
And pretty soon I’ll have nothing left to cut loose.
Being clumsy’s an explanation, not an excuse.

Lately I think about insecurity,
how I’m not real sure I even know what it means.
Pushing through each boring, blurry day.
This behavior is a method, not a phase.

You spell it out, how I mistreated you,
and I’m silent. You know I treat myself badly, too.
So, I write Jordan letters to say I’m trying to learn
and say I’m sorry for how I acted that one summer.

I know I’ve fucked up. I’ve put people through hell.
Well, I guess I just don’t know myself that well.
He forgives, forgets and he thinks that I’m uptight,
and I’m learning about loneliness each night.