I used to shove needles in my arms.
Now I don't.
And i have to be honest
I'm having a bit of a identity crisis.

Who the **** am i
and what should I do?
I get up.
I clean up.
I wash up
I try.
But it really seems,
that I'll probably still die..
and if thats the case,
then whats the ******* point.
When the most fun you have
is when you hit the joint,
but dont get me wrong,
I like it just fine.
Just seems something stronger
could maybe ease my mind.
Like really what Im seeking
is a deep undead bed
where the breathing in my lungs
slowly comes to a stop
and before i know it
the whole worlds better off.
Like whats the point of living,
if you'll only ever die.

These are the things i think of
when i'm staring into the sky.