High - Slow Pulp

I have too much in my pockets

I wish they were empty

And now it feels like my palms are sweaty

I’m not ready

Oh, my shirt sits on my body

Like it’s not for me

And now I’m tryin' to find my way out

I wish I knew how

I just think I’m too high

High

High

High

My limbs are feeling lazy

Why won’t they work with me?

And now I can’t seem to focus my eyes on anything