More songs by Hilary Duff
Description
Vocals: Hilary Duff
Producer: Matthew Koma
Producer: Brian Phillips
Bass: Allee Fütterer
A And R Administrator: Aryanna Platt
Recorded By: Brian Phillips
Strings: Cynthia Tolson
Drums: Griffin Goldsmith
Additional Masterer: Harrison Tate
A& R Manager: Jeff Levin
A& R Manager: Kelly Sayer
Recorded By: Matthew Koma
Mixer: Mitch McCarthy
Masterer: Nathan Dantzler
Additional Keyboards: Sam Beresford
Immersive Mixer: Zach Szydlo
Writer: Matthew Koma
Writer: Brian Phillips
Writer: Hilary Duff
Lyrics and translation
Original
I'm a seasoned apologist for the people who I love.
I'm an amateur psychologist, key to everyone's handcuffs.
Keep the peace 'cause I'm a kid of divorce, and you're the starter of wars, and there's no winning in yours.
So I'll call to say I'm sorry, of course, but how I won't anymore, and put the ball in your court.
Now. . .
If it ain't the weather for tennis then, guess we can argue until dinner time.
You calling me batshit's the fastest antibiotic for thinking it's different this time. Oh.
If you let me finish a sentence, then we can bump our heads and drink some wine.
Fight over semantics and handpick which hill you're willing to die on until the next time. Oh.
You're a mouth full of inconsistencies no one's ever made sense of.
I can know it's all insecurity and then still take it personal. Why do I care this much?
If it ain't the weather for tennis then, guess we can argue until dinner time.
You calling me batshit's the fastest antibiotic for thinking it's different this time.
Oh.
If you let me finish a sentence, then we can bump our heads and drink some wine.
Fight over semantics and handpick which hill you're willing to die on until the next time. It ain't the weather for tennis.
Oh, oh, oh.
No, I don't understand going over to the neighbors to drink cocktails with your pinky up. And I'm tired of believing that better will come later.
Think it's time I should rip the Band-Aid off.
But I keep the peace 'cause I'm a kid of divorce, and you're the starter of wars, and there's no winning in yours.
If it ain't the weather for tennis then, guess we can argue until dinner time.
You calling me batshit's the fastest antibiotic for thinking it's different this time. Oh.
If you let me finish a sentence, then we can bump our heads and drink some wine.
Fight over semantics and handpick which hill you're willing to die on until the next time.
It ain't the weather for tennis.