Entitled Song

Tired of being depressed, but too tired to fix it

Days are automatic, no sight of the stick shift

Falling down a chasm, is it never-ending?

Beginning to lean in on thinking it's better ending

Letters sent in by a courier, of course, earlier

my course, consists of verbs and verdicts too pores

Like an amateur killer, I manage my thrillers by

Damaging Millers like both movie and the liquor

Lite on the subject, A mic on my subjects

Liking my subtext? Sike, i'm the sub-text

Secondary, behind the main lines

At least i'm alive

Don't need a medal to feel better 'bout the ones in my skin

Lungs in a rinse while my tongue's washed in sins

I've lost all my sense, Anosmia, Nausea, Nastier

Than the thought of not knowing what I did.

Won't bother lying to you, Won't even pretend

But I'm still fake as fuck, cause I act on my stance

I packing some cans, I'm eating when you can't

I'm reading to the fans too heated to be fans

Hate me if you like to, I'll know then you listened

Don't think i'll cohere even though enlisted

I pan my thoughts around for each pot to piss in

I missed it, No second chances, wait, yeah there is

Too many got me thinking I'm a parent when

These kids run around my wall of text 'stead of playing with it

Words cannot express my mess of sayings, sentence

after sentence I'm bringing something new

But this is a generation, that copies, the top G's

And stock pleads of money and some props please

"Behave yourself"