Please help me I have this song stuck in my head for 2 weeks I hear it everywhere even when I sleep I'm starting to go crazy

🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😻😻😻

Playlist for ace

Good God!

Nothing's New

Mama's Boy

The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We

My Love Mine All Mine

This Is How Tomorrow Moves

Real Man

ALL MY FRIENDS ARE WASTED

All My Friends Are Heathens

Puberty 2

I Bet on Losing Dogs

I DO NOT OWN THIS

PLEASE VIEW ORIGINAL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxVn1FCVvPY&index=3&list=RD2CitMOSOHlM

~enjoy~

♪ Nightcore - Blood In The Water

Be the Cowboy

Washing Machine Heart

Me and My Husband

Nobody

Prom Queen

Offering

Gilded Lily

all my friends are heathens

Montgomery Ricky

Mr. Loverman

Um not much about me hi and happy holidays and um I’m gay lol

Sometimes, Mitski feels life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what’s truly hers, what can’t be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. “The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people,” she says. “I wish I could leave behind all the love I have after I die, so I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I’ve created onto other people.” She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will shine love long after she’s gone. That’s precisely how it feels: like a love that’s haunting the land.

“This is my most American album,” she says. The music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. Sonically Mitski’s most epic and wise album, the songs introduce wounds and then actively heal them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like light from a distant star.

It's full of the ache of the grown-up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It’s a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything and everyone is crying out in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning and then rejecting us. To love this place, this earth, this America, this body takes work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Washing Machine Heart

Mitski

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Mounir Babikir

Mounir Babikir

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