Are You Serious? (softer version)

Woke up on a Saturday Deaf in my right ear I was dizzy and disoriented Vertigo severe All the doctors said the cause was just some mystery unknown Then they charged me thirteen thousand And the fuckers sent me home I was told that there was no way to prevent what had occurred But the randomness of everything it almost made it worse Now lately, every crowded room feels like I'm drowning in the sound Of incoherent conversations and my heartbeat as it pounds I can't wake up from this dream This madness my reality I clench my fists and grind my teeth As something breaks inside of me like Are you serious? Are you serious? Are you serious? Are you serious? Too much and I wanna sedate I wanna numb out, killin' the pain Don't wanna talk about it Nobody knows how to relate I'm all alone and I'm up on a stage Don't wanna bitch about it Cause I know everyone's in a cage I'm just a drop in a bucket of rage And if you think about it Too hard it'll fuck with your brain It's not going away It's not going away I can't wake up from this dream This madness my reality I clench my fists and grind my teeth As something breaks inside of me like Are you serious? Are you serious? Are you serious? Are you? People tell me I'm resilient But Lord knows I would love to show my feelings I would love to explode onto the ceiling Jackson Pollock, paint peeling I would love to fuck off, say I'm dealing with some shit Like I don't get that everybody's dealing with some shit Like my struggle is unique, neat White girl, dead alcoholic dad, scared to repeat The cycle of vodka, nauseous, the awful process Of top-of-the-class to no options, jobless Of scramblin' thoughts 'til your head's an omelet Of following Thomas, submit to chaos With the privilege of middle-class fear Plus internalized hate 'cause I'm queer Plus I really wanna have that beer I guess the enemy's the face in the mirror But there's a tiny little spark in my heart I blow on it to see if there's a fire to start The highest power's the nth degree That is both infinite and imaginary So don't worry about God She's smokin' cocaine at a bus stop She's puttin' Rogaine on a bald spot She's feelin' no shame in a crop top She loves Gandhi and Pol Pot She condones Zoloft She giveth more when you scream "no más" She told me once in the back of a tour bus The highest highs might really be the low spots