WHY IS IT THAT ALL OF MY LYRICS ARE DULL?
WHY IS IT THAT MY EYES ARE MELTING OUT OF MY SKULL?
WHY IS IT THAT I AM A CLICHÉ?

WHY IS IT THAT I AM COMPLETELY INSIGNIFICANT IN THE VAST MEANINGLESSNESS OF SPACE?
WHY IS IT THAT WE PERCEIVE THINGS AS HAVING A ‘PURPOSE’, OR THAT ANYTHING TRULY MATTERS?

WHY IS IT THAT I CANNOT WRITE SONGS WITH DANCE BEATS AND CATCHY REPETITIVE HOOKS?

WHY IS IT THAT I STILL CARE ABOUT THINGS?
EVEN THOUGH I KNOW NOTHING MATTERS?
WHY DO I CARE ABOUT MY FATHER?
I DONT.
WHY DO I CARE ABOUT NOT CARING?

WHY DO I WANT TO BE SUCCESSFUL?
WHEN I KNOW I WILL DIE, AND LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND?
WHY WAS I NOT BORN IGNORANT, HAPPY RELIGIOUS?

TO THROW ALL YOUR LOVE AND THOUGHT AND EMOTION AT A CONCEPT THAT DOES NOT EXIST.

I WISH I COULD DO THAT.
I AM A PRETENTIOUS ****** BAG.
I WAS CURSED WITH THE MORBID REALITY CHECK THAT WE WILL ALL DIE