Kind souls reach out and try to touch my heart
But I always push them away
I'm too focused on me, myself, and my art
And my constant days of disarray

I live as a loner, a drifter through souls
I never do stay very long
I despise feeling like I have little control
And I can't stand hearing I'm wrong

So I live in my head and I'm friends with myself
It's a pathetic and ugly way to be
But it's rare that I can get along with someone else
So I only hang out with me

My heart was once soft, fleshy, and pink
But now it's a cold, rigid stone
I lose all my friends while I write and I drink
I'm so slowly dying alone