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lyrics

Hey mom I don't wanna go to school
Screw this, piss on the Golden Rule
You told me I oughta go out and play
But every day is Sunday
Clean your room and clean out your mouth
I think my mood is going south
Just like my mind on a rainy day
Cause every day is Sunday.

So praise the ground and pass the gun
Talk to myself, don't have no one
Playing with bullets ain't that fun
So clear the sky embrace the sun

Will her momma let my baby be?
Or will she slip away from me?
Cause every curse just blazes black
And I just want my baby back.
She cleans her room and cleans her mouth
And then we dream of burning south
But her mom tells her to pray
Cause every day is Sunday

So praise the ground and pass the gun
Talk to myself, don't have no one
Playing with bullets ain't that fun
So clear the sky embrace the sun

She tells me that I'm burning devils
Burning my morals
Like a cross into the back of my hand
She tells me that I'll loose her
With my curses
But she's lying to herself

So praise the ground and pass the gun
Talk to myself, don't have no one
Playing with bullets ain't that fun
So clear the sky embrace the sun

credits

from What, Are Ya Braindead?, released May 9, 2014

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about

Braindead Constance Ogden, Utah

We are Braindead Constance, a teenage three-piece alt-punk band from Utah.

Natalie Finamore-Lead Vocals/Guitar
Kayla Smith-Bass/Backup Vocals
Jacob Ward-Drums

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