[dead man]

nobody is listening. i'm typing in vain
if you're reading this it's obviously time for a change
wondered how many personalities that i could sustain
while inhabiting a single body tied to a brain
responsible for making me neurotic and sad
insecure and anxious thirsty for a distraction
writing is a selfish individual act
that sets me free from living, its as simple as that
art therapy. more like a dark parody
part paper, part white lighter and part kerosene
part aerosol. kill them all. its history now
paint the town red. let the bricks burn to the ground
buy me a round. i deserve it for surviving this long
i would have killed Mowgli, domesticated Shere Khan
write his name in a song. tigers lions and rats
you're tied to the tracks and i'm the villain, relax
amoxicillin in your corridor a quarter to five
don't ask the sky to save me yet, dear, i'm still alive
i know my way, my hideaway, my reason to be
but its far away. 40,000 acres under the sea
when Sebastian sang of better days i laughed as a child
forgive me. i've been lonely for a while.
my adolescence was black & milds, cobras and blunts
since then i've been fighting how i don't give a fuck
about anything but buzzing. i've been warned in advance
not to give myself another chance

thank you