Everything's always going the wrong way.
Every days a long day and the same songs play.
I live life off page trying to think like Tom Waits.
Avoid debt, loss, and disappointment on my mom's face.
Beyond gray, the days are somber.
And lackluster, we cant get stronger
the longer we have hunger.
I wanna go all in and fix all your problems.
But I stay lost in chaos with all of these odd friends.
Knots in my throat.
Eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep.
You're talking to a ghost and sunspots happen naturally.
Tactfully my soul actually acts the same way naturally.
The darkest part a tradgedy with the rest following
gravity gradually.
Here we go again.
I'm feeling supine.
Too fine with drinkin that moonshine
and waiting for my due time.
You'll find I'm not a hometown hero.
I'm a lone down weirdo.
Wishing there was no ground zero.
I don't make music,
I just try to stay lucid.
Going through the day shoeless.
Cause some can't choose this.
Excuses are what you'll get from this amoeba.
But I'm drowning in sativa receiving subpoenas.
Oddly enough some are talking it up.
Saying life's great while I'm stuck lost in a rut.
Making songs that reflect that when I know I should just rap.
Forget the nausea, trauma, don't talk about your setbacks.
Life isn't a pop song.
But bring the chorus in.
Everyone's so bored of sin.
I wanna be born again.
Life isn't a pop song.
But bring the chorus in.
Everyone's so bored of sin.
I wanna be born again.
No one ever said
this would be glamorous.
But I'm still looking
for where the hidden camera is.
Hand to fist.
Either giving dap or fighting.
Which is which?
Fix it quick.
The joke grows so enticing.
Is this real life?
If so what's that feel like?
All the despair in the air won't save me.
But a meal might.
I just worsen the burden with verses on verses.
Cursed with these urges to purchase some worthless.
The cat killed curiosity.
Heaven goes to all dogs.
I'm lacking in veracity.
But believe we're all gods.
Though its hard to pull this out
when you're full of doubt.
My tongues become a gun and I'm just choking on the bullets now.
Not aimless but my aims just hitting the targets poorly.
Broke masochist,
protagonist.
Stuck in the first part of the story.
Art bores me.
Cause life's become imitation.
We find someone we wanna be
then subtly emulate them.
Where do we go
to escape our ego?
My life's a free show.
So I'm so sorry if I seem low.
These bones secrete defeat or seep hate.
I see these dreams as keepsakes.
So don't wake me if I sleep late.