I drag myself through white walled rooms
Fighting half heartedly against my tomb
And I stay up so late that my thoughts don't just loom
They swallow me whole and choke me with fumes
What a joke
I'll be weeping in pain when I wake
Why not drink, why not smoke, what difference would it make?
As if I'll get better and it will all go away
It's not worth it to live one more terrible day
In the morning I rise and put this all to rest
And if anyone asks I'll say I just need to rest
Not that anybody cares if I'm in distress
As long as I wake and can get myself dressed
If I still look good who cares if I'm a mess?
I'll live, and I'll live till I'm old. I guess.
