What do you know about being locked up in time?
This whole world's a phase with a vicious design.
I'm a loser by all counts but at least my life is mine.
What do I care if I can never climb
out of this pit I created?
I dug it myself.
With some good medication
and some criminal help.
If I'm a lost soul then I don't want to be found.
I'd rather be lost in clouds then have two feet on the ground.
I doubt myself sometimes, and it's a deafening sound.
But I shrug that **** off, let myself drown
in the wisdom of youth
and the brilliance of folly.
It's ambient, the noose
when you're tripping on molly.
I'm a perfect example of many opportunities lost.
**** it, at this point I don't think of the cost.

I'm so jaded I get faded and I'm weighted to this cadence and the fragrance of this basement where complacent I'm a vagrant.
I'm fighting to keep writing while I'm sedated seems I'm slated to this existence of persistence
where this all is so futile a world that's so brutal-
I can't breathe in this apostasy of mediocrity I've become.