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lyrics
I'm going to find all the ugliest words in any human language, gonna define myself. But part of me thinks I'd just be wasting my time, there are no words for me, you can't ask anybody else. Mall-dwelling tweens have claimed werewolves and vampires, and Frankenstein was blessed with his maker nearby. So, I haven't got foresight, I've given myself a short while to sneak off and die, so nobody might think anything crazy or make any bold moves. No, it's time to get going, now it's time to choose between living my life the way that I want to, or ending it all like I was born to lose. So here we find ourselves, the crux and the crossroads. It seems like I got here using wisdom I've borrowed from punk rock songs and the handful of novels I've lived vicariously through. Albert Camus, you showed me a stranger. A far cry from the one we found in the manger. And neither of whom I would like very much, I'd wager. But that's what you get when you spend nineteen fucking years like I did. I focused too much on who I wanted to be, wrapped up in the folds of my mind I was snug as could be. I was living in filth that I made by myself, with every old me I put back on the shelf. Look at me now, I couldn't care in the least. I just wanted a new me, I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to die, I wanted someone to listen, and I wanted to shine and I wanted to glisten. I wanted to live like a bum and a prophet. I wanted to live with no money in pocket. Look at me now, I should be petty and careless. I should get drunk with my friends and not chain-smoke into excess, trying to stimulate what brain cells I can muster to write any words I won't scratch out in a fluster or a flurry of pen strokes, I'll write til my hand cramps, I'll scream til the veins in my neck pop like spray paint cans. Only they can know the illness I feel of all the pressure of all the words I never had the courage to say or would never come out right anyway. Don't you see why I'm like this? I'm not fucking clever, I'm insane.
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