Well I can’t say I’m a musician cause I ain’t no good. I tried writing poetry but people misunderstood, so now I’m disillusioned with my own livelihood.
I wasted so much time, about 34 years. My hands in my pockets and eyes full of tears, I wish I could erase me instead of this song.
She weighs so heavy deep in my heart, I’m a failure who tripped at the start, laugh reacts have become just another part of my Friday morning routine.
It’s so easy from another screen to mock a person who’s on empty, as they struggle to feel more of something true.
Scratching on paper, or tapping on keys. Sounds my failure with a beat. I wanna give up on all my dreams, work 9-5 and drink to blow off steam, staying sober isn’t what’s cracked up to be.
So if you see me out and ask how I been. I’ll give you a cheap laugh and maybe a fake grin, but I know my eyes are selling me thin. I plead to your god to just let me live. It’s hard enough to begin, I don’t need another 13 reasons to ever sing again.
So what should I do if no one cares? The world should be more open with wide eyed stares. But I can’t bare to be here or there. I just want to disappear; blameless into the obscure.
Well I guess I’m doing such a bang up job, with giving up on this song so I guess I’ll just end it here.
But before I go I got one request, a confession to get off my chest…
And that is I believe in you.
More than I believe in me or my nonsensical capabilities, it’s just that I have no self esteem, but please…please don’t do you as I’ve done to me.
Late night thinking.
Or night time sinking.
This is my sulking song.
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 1:46 AM UTC
Well I can’t say I’m a musician cause I ain’t no good. I tried writing poetry but people misunderstood, so now I’m disillusioned with my own livelihood.
I wasted so much time, about 34 years. My hands in my pockets and eyes full of tears, I wish I could erase me instead of this song.
She weighs so heavy deep in my heart, I’m a failure who tripped at the start, laugh reacts have become just another part of my Friday morning routine.
It’s so easy from another screen to mock a person who’s on empty, as they struggle to feel more of something true.
Scratching on paper, or tapping on keys. Sounds my failure with a beat. I wanna give up on all my dreams, work 9-5 and drink to blow off steam, staying sober isn’t what’s cracked up to be.
So if you see me out and ask how I been. I’ll give you a cheap laugh and maybe a fake grin, but I know my eyes are selling me thin. I plead to your god to just let me live. It’s hard enough to begin, I don’t need another 13 reasons to ever sing again.
So what should I do if no one cares? The world should be more open with wide eyed stares. But I can’t bare to be here or there. I just want to disappear; blameless into the obscure.
Well I guess I’m doing such a bang up job, with giving up on this song so I guess I’ll just end it here.
But before I go I got one request, a confession to get off my chest…
And that is I believe in you.
More than I believe in me or my nonsensical capabilities, it’s just that I have no self esteem, but please…please don’t do you as I’ve done to me.
Late night thinking.
Or night time sinking.
This is my sulking song.
