I won't lie and say I trust myself because the truth is that I don't.
I will lie and say I'll be there when, but the truth is that I won't.

I don't know what you want from me much less to what extent.
Most days I just push it through when other days I'm spent.

You may or may not have said those things believe them I just can't.
It's hard to pay attention when my mind it starts to rant.

"It's all absurd, listen not, for these words we hear are lies!
She doesn't love you she doesn't mean it, don't look into her eyes!"

Alas though I'll hang my head, to look into my drink.
Thank Buddah it isn't empty, this scotch it helps me think.

The amber cloud of liquid courage I've captured in this glass.
Brings to mind I'm out of smokes and these thoughts can kiss my ***.

**** the truth there's nothing there but misery and pain.
To soak a soul in smoke and scotch lest he go insane?

The illusion that I'm living I think will suit me fine.
I don't know how the story ends so I refuse to wait in line.

No materials that I want so much that I'll sacrifice my time.
When I could be here hoping you are reading every rhyme.

Well I've sorted all my quandaries relating to this matter.
Whether or not they give a **** could only serve to flatter.

To know the truth will woo the ego or feed my self loathing.
Another lie to tell thyself a wolf in some sheeps clothing.

I thank you though for hanging out as I wrestle with myself.
Choosing which illusion to pull down from the shelf.