| Take a sip from the cup of piping hot procrastination
|
| That’s another sleepless night from all my sleep hallucinations
|
| Point my finger at the cause
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| Mom hates dad and dad hates mom
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| But they did pretty well to salvage something broken since the year of '91
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| A different home every year creates an oddly scattered head
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| Filled with unproductive thoughts that pair with existential dread
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| I am in desperate need of therapy but cannot pay the bills
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| How do you put a price on mental health
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| Whilst everybody’s burning
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| I’ll rest with this in my guts
|
| As I’m forced through the incinerator
|
| It’s cold, it’s calculated
|
| It won’t stop til I’m obliterated
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| Two years ago you came to visit my completely empty home
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| We built a tree out of the cardboard that we found out on the streets
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| We spent our Christmas at the dollar store and you cried a lot that morning
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| Said you hated this whole situation right as mom was calling
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| I’ll rest with this in my guts
|
| As I’m forced through the incinerator
|
| It’s cold, it’s calculated
|
| It won’t stop til I’m obliterated
|
| I wasn’t an easy child
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| I was stubborn to the core
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| Filled with a distrust in authority and a new found feeling
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| I did not understand
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| Which grew and manifested in this hollow home that creaked and splintered
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| With every step I took
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| Well I’m sorry mom, and I’m sorry dad
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| I’m sorry Sammy for the distance and the aftermath that stained and desecrated
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| the person that I am today
|
| The sour discoloration fills my day to day
|
| I’ll rest with this in my guts
|
| As I’m forced through the incinerator
|
| It’s cold, it’s calculated
|
| It won’t stop til I’m obliterated |