What if there’s nothing to look forward to?
A concert or two to keep me going.
And through the winter I might break.
This time, I don’t want to be turned in.
The hospital hasn’t done much for me.

Now I fall through bed-sheets,
Figuring out the meaning to living,
A pretentious ******* with no right,
What I'd do to become everything I want.

In the meantime,
Give me reasons to survive at bare minimum,
Holding only a grain of sand,
While everyone else seems to hold more.

Now I fall through bed-sheets,
Figuring out the meaning to living,
A pretentious ******* with no right,
What I'd do to become everything I want.