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