Текстове на песни: Such Gold. Gut Rot.

Woah it hurts too much so call me out for not having the guts.
So chalk it up to poor judgment but how could you?
Given every chance, our outstretched hands,
But you?d drink the ocean and ask for more.
Given every chance, all of our outstretched hands.
And I can?t believe all the things you?ve taken from me (not the money but the memories).
So chalk it up to poor judgment, and I misjudged you.