stale cardboard pizza boxes and
smoke ashy lungs are the most accurate
phrases to describe this summer
and i say that while laughing
to myself, home alone,
at the dining room table
but it really isn't funny
its ******* pathetic
and if you haven't noticed
I'm wearing all black again
and if you haven't noticed
i think i'm sad again

i just want some cigarettes
but i have no money
i just want to get away
but i have nowhere to go
and i just want to be okay
but I'm not
so i sit here writing out my
internal sadness onto paper
like it'll patch up the busted pipes
all it does is publish it front page
for all to see
this just in
i'm angry at the world
and no one cares
(why should they)

don't tell me its just teenage angst
or my hormonal emotions acting up
if i feel it then it is real
and if its real then why would you try
to tell me otherwise
because i have one hand on the trigger
and the other in my pants
or in your pants
or in this bag of chips
and its delicious

its like i just realized how ****** up
everything is
and i think id rather be rejected by the
opinions of man than
the natural order of the earth
so to hell with this place
and by this place i mean you
heres some rocks to fill your pockets
and ill watch as you walk into the river
just following everyone else
no second opinion
we are all afraid to speak

so i guess this is me speaking