1. |
At All
03:24
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|
Do you feel bad at all?
I don’t feel bad at all.
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2. |
||||
|
My doctor tells me that I should lose a little weight
So tonight I’m losing all 187 pounds
I tie my noose, I get it ready
Gotta look pretty when I am found
And when I’m found I hope it’s by a stranger
A stranger might cry, a stranger might care
Everything is funny when your life is a fucking joke
And everything is killing me, so why not smoke?
I really hope that the next time you decide
To take drugs from a stranger that they’re laced with fucking cyanide
A stranger might cry, a stranger might care
It might affect them.
You broke my heart
Now I’ll break your fucking legs
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3. |
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Sometimes I wished you would die so I could stop suffering.
It kept me up at night. I hope it keeps you up at night.
And over time your house becomes a shrine for the dead
And you’ll wonder if getting older is killing them.
Do you ever wish you were her?
Beautiful inside and out?
Does the pain that resides inside your eyes ever come leaking out?
And over time your house will fill with water and it’ll catch on fire
And you’ll wonder if getting older is killing it.
And I hoped my getting older was killing you.
And I hope that getting older is killing you.
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4. |
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5. |
Pittsburgh
03:25
|
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|
Go and do it
Make me feel it
but just remember
using spellcheck doesn’t make you less stupid.
You’re a liar
you’re a cheater
you’re a stealer
(not from Pittsburgh)
Everything
is fleeting
except depression
You’re a liar
you’re a cheater
you’re a stealer
(not from Pittsburgh)
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6. |
||||
|
I dropped my childhood
And all my old best friends
Fell out onto the floor
And I stuffed them all back in
And covered them with my new things
So I wouldn’t have to look at them anymore
Kinda like you
I burned everything
That you ever gave me
In my back yard
But it didn’t work
I still remembered
How they looked
I still remembered how they looked.
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7. |
||||
|
Maybe I’m made for you or maybe I’m made to die alone, but I know
it’s one of the two.
And maybe you’re a perfect specimen and maybe I’m known to exaggerate but I know I’m close to the truth.
And I can’t tell myself anything that I know couldn’t be true, so I can’t tell myself you don’t need me ‘cause I know it isn’t true.
I just love you.
That’s it.
No more, no less.
I just love you, and that’s enough.
And maybe you’ll run away one day; maybe I’ll make mistakes, but
that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
And maybe we’ll be together forever or maybe just the rest of our lives, but I know it’s not up to me.
And I don’t know how to live myself if I’m not living for you, and I don’t know if it’s healthy to say so, but I know that it’s true that
I just love you.
That’s it.
No more, no less.
I just love you, and that’s enough
for me, for you.
I just love you
|
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8. |
The Battle of the Johns
09:41
|
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|
No. It isn’t because it can’t be. You can’t be gone; I can’t be alone. Not here, not now. Not in front of all my friends. Not in my own goddamn bedroom. And it can’t be because it isn’t. How are you still alive? I’ve prayed so hard. I don’t deserve this; you do.
You left me at my lowest. If I see your face again, I’ll be destroying it with whatever tools I’m granted. I’ll take a small child and beat you across the head with it until you resemble a Christian Rex van Minnen portrait. The ideas you so desperately attempt to convey to the world could be compared to a baby playing a 3-key piano due to the fact that you don’t have a heart.
P.S. I love you.
God, give me back my sanity, and please give my life back to me in a basket with a bow or the barrel of a gun, whichever is less painful.
Somehow I always knew it would end this way, but the cancer in my brain can’t determine if I’m too good for this world or if it’s too good for me. Somehow in all my fantasies I always die smiling. I always have the last laugh; always gone a hero, as I let the blood out of my veins.
But I won’t let you destroy me. I’ll keep on going and you will no longer inhabit my body. I’ve figured it out: you’re not evil, you’re not dead. You’ve just moved on, and now it’s my turn.
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