I'm not going to get better
It's not like that
This disease doesn't go away
There is no cure

But oh, there are symptoms
Paranoia, cynicism, and distrust
To name a few

I've heard it's my burden to bear
A toll for artistry
Which I tolerate, that is
Until the next bout sets in

Like now.

Now I am driven to madness
What a ******* up world we live in
Where nice girls turn into tweakers
Where people never change
Where we will always rather drop the bomb than talk it out
Where people hide from their feelings

That is what you're all afraid of, isn't it?
The kinds of conversation that spin out of you
Are remarkable
You'll talk of anything save the things on your mind
Fearful
Fearful of what?
Directness, no, we cannot have that here
I would much rather discuss
The grazing habits
Of a cow

I'll just get as much music and writing out there
As I can
Before I combust
And rejoin the nothing