Those Without – “C.O.A.C.O.” Official Music Video
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Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1HTnNmldrSruFvjSz4zhFy?si=3mMvdzh0QE-et8olk7tN9w
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/se/artist/those-without/1334220508
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GooglePlay: https://play.google.com/store/music/artist/Those_Without?id=Aiy63jf5j3hvgfl3jupenhlf2ae&hl=en
Tidal: https://tidal.com/artist/9431086
Those Without – “C.O.A.C.O.” Official Music Video
Artist city, country: Örebro, Sweden
Artist Biography: Those Without is a five piece pop punk band from the town of Örebro, Sweden. We released our debut EP ‘Blackout//Amnesia’ the 26th of January and C.O.A.C.O the 31st of July.
Director Name: Benito Skarp
Producer Name: Benito Skarp
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thosewithoutband/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@thosewithout1
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thosewithout/
Song Lyrics: “C.O.A.C.O.”
Eighteen and caught up
In parties and concerts
No clue where it brings me
No signs of our conscience
My father ain’t happy
With everything happening
Around me, I’m practically breaking myself down
But I have got no problem
Seeing where it brought us
Would I be here today if I
Threw myself into this world without you
Left to rot inside the nearest shitty motel room
Woke up with stains on my sweater
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
Where I was or how i got home
Bruised up, ripped my jeans on the sidewalk
Thirteen voicemails on her phone where I talk
‘Bout how I’m not fucked up at all, hoping you’ll enjoy the show
Always sick and feeling numb
Where did this stomach ache come from
Don’t want to be here anymore, I need to feel like I belong
So I’ll throw myself into this world without you
Caught me throwing up outside your vacant hotel room
Woke up with stains on my sweater
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
Where I was or how i got home
Bruised up, ripped my jeans on the sidewalk
Thirteen voicemails on her phone where I talk
‘Bout how I’m not fucked up at all, hoping you’ll enjoy the show
Low percentage on my phone, I’m still drunk and on my own
Remembered as I heard your voice, echoing throughout the noise
Low percentage on my phone, I’m still drunk and on my own
Woke up with stains on my sweater
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
Where I was or how i got home
Woke up with stains on my sweater
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
Where I was or how i got home
Bruised up, ripped my jeans on the sidewalk
Thirteen voicemails on her phone where I talk
‘Bout how I’m not fucked up at all, hoping you’ll enjoy the show
Woke up with stains on my sweater
[No I’m not fucked up at all]
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
[No I’m not fucked up at all]
Where I was or how i got home
[No I’m not fucked up at all]
Woke up with stains on my sweater
[No I’m not fucked up at all]
Too many drinks, I can’t remember
[No I’m not fucked up at all]
Where I was or how i got home
But I’m not fucked up at all
***
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