Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again
Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again

Every day I awake to the endless feeling of emptiness
And then I go to a place where there are walls without windows
People without souls
And money is everything
It's kind of hard to breathe here between the endless clouds of smoke and the kindness and integrity in which the people lack
In an environment where everyone blends as one
I stand out
It's not because I'm neither a smoker nor an unempathetic ****
But it's a little something called individuality
Individuality so transparent that people try to verbally, emotionally attack me, break me down
It seems to be working
Because when I'm in this place I'm like a zombie, I try to drain my emotions to blend in
But I still stand out even with my undeniable anger, presumable sarcasm, and ****** up hair
And I walk in a straight line when I walk, waiting to bump anyone, so tired of people invading my space walking by
Sick of people after greeting them not saying hi
Is it so ******* hard to have manners
What's a matter
Speak, nod, say something
I'm under the assumption
That I'm the only one in here
That is aware
Of what's going on around here
In this place
These people are of ******* waste
No manners, morals, or integrity
I better depart while I still possess mine
Though it's the manners I lack
But who needs that when you're always under attack

Every day that I'm here I feel like going home and killing myself
But when I'm home I'm fine again