1991

Take a sip from the cup of piping hot procrastination That's another sleepless night from all my sleep hallucinations Point my finger at the cause Mom hates dad and dad hates mom But they did pretty well to salvage something broken since the year of '91 A different home every year creates an oddly scattered head Filled with unproductive thoughts that pair with existential dread I am in desperate need of therapy but cannot pay the bills How do you put a price on mental health Whilst everybody's burning? I'll rest with this in my guts As I'm forced through the incinerator It's cold, it's calculated And it won't stop 'til I'm obliterated Two years ago, you came to visit my completely empty home We built a tree out of the cardboard that we found out on the streets We spent our Christmas at the dollar store And you cried a lot that morning Said you hated this whole situation right as mom was calling I'll rest with this in my guts As I'm forced through the incinerator It's cold, it's calculated It won't stop 'til I'm obliterated Well, I wasn't an easy child, I was stubborn to the core Filled with a distrust in authority, and a new found feeling I did not understand Which grew and manifested in this hollow home That creaked and splintered with every step I took Well, I'm sorry, mom, and I'm sorry, dad I'm sorry, Sammy, for the distance and the aftermath That stained and desecrated the person that I am today The sour discoloration that fills my day to day I'll rest with this in my guts As I'm forced through the incinerator Yeah, it's cold, it's calculated And it won't stop 'til I'm obliterated