More songs by Mulaa Joans
Description
Assistant Mastering Engineer: Adam Burt
Viola: Bruce White
Violin: Charlie Brown
Viola: Chris Worsey
Mastering Engineer: Dale Becker
Engineer: Darren Hellis
Drums: Earl Harvin
Guitar: Eddie Allen
Producer: Eddie Allen
Leader: Everton Nelson
Cello: Ian Burdge
Violin: Ian Humphries
Bass: Jodi Millner
Guitar, Keyboards: Jonah Stevens
Producer: Jonah Stevens
Drum Programmer: Jonah Stevens
Synthesizer Programmer: Jonah Stevens
Assistant Mastering Engineer: Kegn Venegas
Violin: Lucy Wilkins
Violin: Marianne Haynes
Viola: Meghan Cassidy
Vocals: Mulaa Joans
Viola: Nicholas Bootiman
Viola: Reiad Chibah
Piano: Reuben James
Section Leader: Richard George
Guitar: Sam Lewis
Strings Arranger: Simon Hale
Double Bass: Stacey Watton
Mixer, Producer: Stephen Fitzmaurice
Violin: Thomas Gould
Violin: Warren Zielinski
Composer: Poppy Hewitt-Smith
Composer: Eddie Allen
Composer: Ed Thomas
Lyricist: Ed Thomas
Lyricist: Eddie Allen
Lyricist: Poppy Hewitt-Smith
Lyrics and translation
Original
Last
Thursday night, I sat at my window and got a text from you saying you wanna end your life.
You know that ain't right.
When sooner or later, the weight of a word will hit like a feather.
It's mad how easy you lie. I know you know that ain't right.
And this is my love letter, 'cause I'd love you to get the fuck out my life. You've really done it this time.
But you'd love to keep me closer.
I saw my name on a poster, then I'm cutting my ties.
Hate that your blood is like mine.
2 AM texts leave me crying and angry, you're like TNT.
If I don't immediately answer, but you'd make it 'bout you if I tell you about it.
Mm, I won't tell you about how eighteen years got me running for cover.
Do all my tears look just like my mother's? But you'd make it 'bout you if I tell you about it, so
I won't tell you about it.
I won't tell you about it.
Is it just a misunderstanding or is it, or is it the way I bend just to have you in my life for a minute? Yeah, I know it sucks to admit it. Mm, yeah.
And this is my love letter, 'cause I'd love you to get the fuck out my life. Hate that your blood is like mine.
2 AM texts leave me crying and angry, you're like TNT.
If I don't immediately answer, but you'd make it 'bout you if I tell you about it.
Yeah, if I tell you about how eighteen years got me running for cover.
Do all my tears look just like my mother's? But you'd make it 'bout you if I tell you about it, so
I won't tell you about it.
This is my love letter, 'cause I'd love you to get the fuck out my life. You've really done it this time.