It’s 5 A.M. again.
I’ve repeated this routine more than I’d like to admit
Everyday seems more torturous than the ones before
Yet I still self-destruct.
Nothing is accomplished because there’s nothing to be done
The problem is that’s not true
There’s far too much and it’s all building up
Causing me to slide right on down
Too much to handle.
Since when?
The simplest things seem impossible.
But why?
What’s the point?
If you can’t even find the point to the ******* point?
What does any of it even mean?
What does this even mean?
I guess maybe that’s the point.
The point to the ******* point.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
It’s 5 A.M. again.
I’ve repeated this routine more than I’d like to admit
Everyday seems more torturous than the ones before
Yet I still self-destruct.
Nothing is accomplished because there’s nothing to be done
The problem is that’s not true
There’s far too much and it’s all building up
Causing me to slide right on down
Too much to handle.
Since when?
The simplest things seem impossible.
But why?
What’s the point?
If you can’t even find the point to the ******* point?
What does any of it even mean?
What does this even mean?
I guess maybe that’s the point.
The point to the ******* point.
