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Painting over portraits again
I pretend this isn't how I knew it would end.
Cause there are no more pages in my book
and there is too much ink in my pend
so now I'm wishing that the cycle would end so then I'd learn to be somebody's man
cause there is too much history for the history books
and i'd like to start them again
I hate me
so unoriginal
no other feeling could feel so traditional
cause every year I end up here
I end up here
so now you hate me?
oh how original
well I'm used to it
lone individual
another year and I'm still here looking in the mirror
I'm sure I'm sure
and I didn't do those things from before
but there is no more time left on the clock and you are walking out the front door
so now I'm learning to be wrong even more the whore
the emptiness I try to ignore
cause there are no more bullets in my gun and I am trying to prepare for war
and you say, "I'll take it on myself, I'll take it out on my friends."
and you say, "I've got this knife ego my throat, and there's this blood on my hands."
(and if you pick me up...) is it selfish?
Well if so fine,
I've always been selfish
and that's just one of the many problems I will never be able to fix
I believe I am making everyone's lives around me worse
increasingly worse
I am a disease to my friends and family
Please leave me alone
we're still young
it's over I'm so dumb
I love her
I'm sorry
I hate me
It was fine
til lately

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