He's asleep and I feel like ****.
I can't seem to cry but I want to throw a fit.
I work in the morning and I hate my job.
All I want to do is lay in bed and sob.
I don't know if my parents' plane ever landed,
And sometimes I still feel like I've been abandoned.
I call myself an artist but I don't think that's true.
I don't really put work into anything I do.
I'm afraid I might be an imposter just following a fad.
I don't know anything about anything and I know that's bad.