Upchurch - Tore Up lyrics

The only time I see you is when we’re in a [?] You’re with your friends and I’m with mine, the music’s bumping loud You used to be the girl that didn’t go out all the time Now you have these crazy nights on Instagram you post about And through the neon smoke On a midtown [?] When I’m home alone You’re out with your friends I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up about it Up about it, up about it, up about it Uh, yeah we ain’t as young as we once was Back when I had no tattoos, no ID to get in clubs We walked Broadway looking at the lights and nightlife that we never seen Breathing in those toxic fumes from buses sitting on Second Ave. Trying to snake in to the spots where all the big boys used to roll around I was 130 pound soaking wet but I felt like Zeus when you was around A long way from them county roads in a small taste of that city life Sweet smell of that Jack Daniel’s, old cigarette smoke and neon lights With Owen Jackson from the background coming from a country cover band And a homeless lady on a street corner k**ing it when she plays that violin Johnny and Juno in them [?] slapped up way back when We didn’t know sh** about life just six months in to have them [?] And if these words were Polaroids these pictures would be priceless But these thoughts up in my head keep replaying because they’re timeless So whenever you’re out up on the town cheers to the times that we had Let the flames of life drift down the strip of Music City I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up about it Up about it, up about it, up about it Yeah, huh, no as young as we was, right? Now I’ve been kicked out of every bar except the one I’m sitting in tonight I had about twelve drinks and two shots, now I’m in a back alley smoking pot Putting [?] into a fist fight with some jockey dude and get roughed up But it’s all good that Jack Daniel’s got me f**ed up as always And if I leave this neon strip it’s looking like I thought of [?] Got alcohol on my white [?] car parked on Broadway No pretty lady in the pa**enger ’cause of dumb choices that I made I start the Chevy and it’s always her so I’m bumping through them sound waves One bullet in that pistol Smith & Wesson come take the pain away I talk to my drunk self and tell my sober self I can’t take me So I pull the gun on my other half like, “Why you always blaming me?” I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up about it Up about it, up about it, up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up I still get tore up about it I still get tore up about it Up about it, up about it, up about it