Fidget

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Sans Faute

3:43

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You ever press your palms, to fresh cement
Shoulders rubbing up, two-tone pirouette
Lapping up sin, makes the whistle wet

Yeah I can hold, 'til my grip goes white
Stamp a letter, in a dampened light
While a blaring train, seethes a name in the night

If it don't fit the mold
To the side of the road
To the side of the road
Caught my throat, take a joke
Give all you can give, tout your morals to gloat

It feels better to sit, doesn't it
Static flash off-beat, pointed thumb to the wrist
Scenes by Matisse 
Fault (In)sanity

If it don't fit the mold
To the side of the road
To the side of the road
Caught my throat, take a joke
Give all you can give, tout your morals to gloat

 Struggling with Fidget? Become a better singer in 30 days with these videos!