Sick of it.

Look, i'm, sick of this world and i'm done with all it's inhabitants i'm trying my

best to find a new habitat and i'm grabbing at straw in the hat but each ones

shorter then the last and i'm scratching my head and wondering why this world

keeps kicking my ass, i'm sicker then the sickest mister i'm picking my liqueur,

finger twitchin on the trigger it figures the pictures of my past they- only deliver

a sliver of winter a river for this sinner to this hipster who's only sinnin bigger

getting quicker i'm starting to shiver my bodies blistered it's a mixture of

whispers and yells from this sinister bitch, i'm finnin to ditch this dinner table

and switch my life, i grab the knife next to the plate as i cry as I try to

reconsileate from how I was alienated how i was hated for being a regular

guy, it's how I played it, surely paid for it, every night i prayed it never gave it

to me but i slaved it didn't save it but I crave it, now I've faced it.

 

There's no salvation for the weak, I understand that, I prayed many times

on my knees for weeks, but never did I man up, now i stand up, and band up,

and brush the dust off my shoulders, no wonderland cuz it's over I get it now

i'm alone never sober, just a stoner riding this roller coaster i'm looking for

some closure, never getten closer, it's always cold shoulder

so roll over

maybe the other side has that four leaf clover in October