You ever feel so stressed,
Where right inside feels so compressed,
And you feel like a mess,
And life feels like a test,
And you can't just leave the nest,
And you always feel depressed,
But it just means 'deep rest'
And with online, you become obsessed,
With perfect lives, & it's a pest,
Telling you just how to dress,
But I guess, the algorithm won't take a ****** rest.
Telling you exactly how to look,
Be like the ones on magazines & books,
Go ahead & have a look,
Be like 'Brittney *****' or Brooke,
All the happiness it has took,
Aim for perfection, skinnyness and looks,
You don't wanna end up lookin like that lad captain hook,
Drinking all his gold away in his hideout & nook.
No one cares unless you got luck, money, confidence & bucks,
If you're suffering, "oh that *****"
They push you straight into the muck,
Their the hockey stick & you're the puck,
It can feel like you're really stuck,
But when you are struggling,
You'll see the ones who actually don't & do truly give a ****.
