Untitled Song

all eyes on me and my suffering pain

my soul is ripping from the seems this life is hard to sustain

create a work of art from nothing that resides in the brain

hard fitting what I picture into a frame

feel like life is just a feeling I continue believing

with a little bit of work see what I am achieving

swimming to the top, stop run into the ceiling

bustin out the box ponder if you know what I'm feeling

but who cares, who stairs, and who stops

who snitchs, who diches, and who flops

leave slob in ditch after getting shot

stupid lame old bitch now slob is not