Chris (that's me) is a Fucking Wreck

Depressing trans shit

My thoughts are like clouds, when I think too much it gets too loud,

Eventually the Sun comes out, I know it will, I have my doubts,

I want to make the thunder stop, I'm soaking wet without a drop,

The blinding Sun stained bloody red will show its face and lift its head,

He will come out and lift his head,

Either that or end up dead.