there’s gotta be a quicker way i can rid myself of hate
or maybe suppress it down to melancholy for my sanity’s sake
so if it’ll filter out slowly, i’m not enough patience to wait
so if sober slowly, fuck it, i’ll constantly self-medicate
there's a developing pattern here, though i doubt any of it matters
i'm just a pariah that scaled way too far up the social ladder
i'll keep flogging at a dead horse, pull back hard on the reigns
and use sisyphus as a personification of my emotions once again
if he god, has indeed truly favoured our undertakings
he's blessed me with nothing but apathy and uncontrollable shaking
i'll remove myself from the gene pool before i piss in the waters
trim family tree's branches before they entwine with your daughters
in fact, i'll throw down poison to rot away at the roots
and salt the earth to be sure none of the seeds ever bear fruit
i'm in a constant audition, forever fucking fidgeting
i fear i'll never come off as anything more than mildly fucking interesting
i'm scared i'll never stop balancing atop this human-shaped knife
scared my short-comings and animosities will be the sum of my fucking life
are these shitty rap tracks or a code 31 through a CV scanner?
watch me stutter and stammer trying to uphold my falsified swagger
until i fall and i stagger exactly like every other time
and i can arrange each insecurity into a scheme that barely fucking rhymes
that won't make it to the top twenty so this shit won't pay me a penny
i'll drive so drunk i'll crash your beer bong right into a bentley
so if you wanna follow a trend, how about you do this instead
and chase the light shining through the bullet hole in the back of my fucking head
i'll never escape my misanthropy but that's the way it's supposed to be
i'm trading nickels for narcotics because it the only thing to ever comfort me
i'm sure i'll soon surpass my inhibitions, vices and anxiety
and i can trade my ambitions for a mere week or two of sobriety
i will burn down my each pretense to build bridges from the matchsticks
and keep myself anorexic by practicing my mental gymnastics
i feel like a fucking disease, but i'm sure i'm only benign
amplifying the genes for anxiety and furthering it down the blood-line
i won't crack under the pressure, by my own intent or by error
i'll take every friendship i have and i'll rip and tear and severe
play my head as a percussion instrument and my legs as violins
i'll keep myself hyper-vigilant marching through foxholes in my skin
shield myself in armours that are too soon set to disintegrate
i swear the pressure on my shoulders has now turned to bearing weight
please help me into obscurity and become another silhouette
fade gracefully into the background of hazy memories you'll eventually forget