Good Luck Final Girl Songtext
This morning I dreamt about missing the train
I spent all that money just to throw it away
So I shot out of bed and bought a stranger some breakfast
But when I got, he was no longer there
I searched the whole station, I couldn't find him anywhere
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve
No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
I spent what little I had on trains headed north
Get off at the first stop, walk around 'til I'm bored
But that girl down the block said if I wanted to escape
I could always just knock on her door
But I don't need people like her anymore
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve
No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
I'm postponing my suicide indefinitely
There's horseshoes in his pockets and grenades in his spleen
No amount of money could strike him off the calendar
And I haven't cried in seven years
Slumped in the café car, hiding my tears
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
I spent all that money just to throw it away
So I shot out of bed and bought a stranger some breakfast
But when I got, he was no longer there
I searched the whole station, I couldn't find him anywhere
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve
No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
I spent what little I had on trains headed north
Get off at the first stop, walk around 'til I'm bored
But that girl down the block said if I wanted to escape
I could always just knock on her door
But I don't need people like her anymore
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve
No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
I'm postponing my suicide indefinitely
There's horseshoes in his pockets and grenades in his spleen
No amount of money could strike him off the calendar
And I haven't cried in seven years
Slumped in the café car, hiding my tears
Good luck, final girl
I hope you get what you deserve No one's going to do your job for you
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
After all, that's not how this thing works
