Orientation, identification and who you're attracted to (IF ANYONE), makes you somebody who is alive at this very point and state in time, the bathroom signs that spell it out don't mean a gODDAMN thing, piss where you want, 'cause in the end, everybody does the same And if somebody says they're that, then that is really all you gotta fuckin' know. AND IF SOMEBODY SAYS THEY'RE THAT, THEN THAT IS REALLY ALL YOU GOTTA FUCKIN' KNOW What we wear and how we dress are expressions of who we are and what we do to our own bodies is in nobody else's regard. Get a tattoo, apply foundation and make yourself comfortable, 'cause in the end, we're our own agents and we have free-will and control And if somebody says they're that, then that is really all you gotta fuckin' know. AND IF SOMEBODY SAYS THEY'RE THAT, THEN THAT IS REALLY ALL YOU GOTTA FUCKIN' KNOW. AND IF A PERSON SAYS THEY'RE THAT, THEN THAT IS REALLY ALL YOU GOTTA EVER KNOW. AND IF SOMEBODY SAYS THEY'RE THAT, THEN YOU SHOULD PROBABLY RESPECT THEIR OWN DECISIONS

Alcohol and some nicotine are the key ingredients for my self-esteem and if I keep at it for the time being, then I'll write a whiny song about absolutely nothing, I'm still shooting for that first degree, yeah, the one that I started when I was just 19 and if you think that you're better than me, you're right. Absolutely. I'm so caught up in not having a life that I know some day I'm gonna pay the price by being socially awkward and plain inept to the point where I won't have anyone left, I'll brew it down and I'll bottle it up and I'll slap a label on it right before I give up, before this kettle bursts right at the seams, I'll have no mouth and I know I must scream Viewing myself from an outside perspective and holding myself to a false objective, I'm longing for some meaning in the retrospective sense. I'll find my place in some chemicals and I'll refuse to change, no, I never will and I'll continue on this path to overkill. Alcohol, nicotine, alcohol, nicotine, alcohol, nicotine and some alcohol and some nicotine, yeah, alcohol, nicotine, alcohol, nicotine, alcohol, nicotine and some alcohol and some nicotine, yeah

My fingernails are chewed to something terribly and it's reflecting my status of integrity, no matter how much I try to build it, I'll always fuck it up unaware of it, I persistently try to change my state of mind, but my mind's in a state I wish to leave behind, self-limiting and a lack of stimulus makes for a life of complete indifference, I wish I could wish to try to make a change and abscond myself to the greatest of plains, lost in the woods I'd find my dignity and finally achieve sheer felicity, surrounded by things that'll outlive me, there's so much beauty in the dirt, I'm unable to see the path that I've chosen without any hesitance will be the one to complete my exodus Going down the path of least resistance, I'll have sacrificed myself to the greatest of interests, lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, the memories of people that I'll never see, yeah I won't see them, but will they remember me? Lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, try to meet new people, try to make new friends, until it's all over and I'm trying to comprehend, lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, throw everything away and act like it's hopeless, try to find god in this self-induced psychosis lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative, lost in my mind and spewing repetitives, repeating everything so it acts like a sedative

Well I understand that you've got some problems and I don't mind that, because we've all got 'em, but does it really necessitate to act like a jerk and be filled with such hate? And I don't know if it's a coping mechanism that justifies your excessive pessimism or maybe it's so deep-seated within you that it's all you've known to have a warped point of view, 'cause every time I try to hold a conversation, I am met with anger and sense of confrontation and maybe it's the redundancy within me that expects a change from such hostility, when all I'm trying to figure out is what I've done to make you shout, the way you act is really fucking with my brain, although I should stop, yeah, I'll abstain Viewing this from a cost-benefit analysis, what is the point in remaining being friends with you? And I could try to care, yeah, I could even try to persevere and be contrived in all of my attempts to try. But for every second and every minute, my own well-being will be contingent on the hope that you'll grow up

Well I've spent my whole life wondering what is wrong with me, be it in my words or actions revealing a fucked up integrity and others they don't really notice or maybe it's just that they don't really mind, it's possible that no one really gives a shit and I must say that would suit me rather fine And I've abandoned all hope of crossing that distant finish line, if my motivation were the ankles, then they'd of broken back at mile 25, but I'm sure that I'll keep on trying and giving it my all for every day, but the truth is that I'm just a vegetable, hooked up to life support and slowly slipping away Well I've spent my whole life wondering what I could do differently, be it in my words or actions that always lead to the worst possibility, but I'm sure that I'll keep on living and I'm sure that I'll keep going strong, regardless of the outcome or situation, if I'm alive then I'll have proved myself wrong

Wakin' up at the crack of noon and I feel so alive, I feel so alive and I wake up at six for my job and I'd rather fucking die and yeah, I may complain about bourgeois shit, but that's only because that is all my life is, I have no struggle that is worthy of that word, so I'll drink until I'm drunk and then I'll drink some more, I will drink some more and I love these party friends and I love these party people, 'cause when your thoughts and actions make no sense, that is the only time there is true friendship between people who would otherwise have mass conflicts, or so I say as I try to attempt a half-hearted psychoanalysis coming from arguably the dumbest man alive, when the truth is that I'm just waiting on this drink to finish and my smoke to be gone because all desire for conversation is withdrawn and though that may make me sound like a dick, I swear to god I'm just a common prick, more afraid of you than you are of me and yeah, I've thought about suicide, but I think that's the case for everyone alive, there's no comparison to living a life when you feel like dying And I don't wanna be anything that makes me, me, I just wanna live like I'm giving a fuck and I'm sorry if we talk and you were expecting a kind of inspiration, you're much better off telling me to shut the fuck up, cause the only thing I'll bring is some jealous sympathy at how I think you're much better off than me, a stammering of words into some incoherent verse is the most enlightened state I'll ever achieve

***NOTE*** I wrote this song before knowing that Roseanne Barr is a transmisogynist/racist, so fuck Roseanne tbh *** I wish that I could be just like Roseanne, never, ever, ever, ever giving a damn about the way I act and the way that I am, always responding back with some witty retort and I could make a powerful statement while keeping it short And I wish that I were special to just about anyone and I'm not counting family, cause man, that's just dumb, I mean the people I like and the ones I admire never reciprocate and that just fuels the fire for the passion I have for those select few and I know that's fucked up, but man I've got some issues, I think it all ties back to when my parents divorced and I just bottled it up, not having any recourse and a lack of meaningful relationships have hardened me down to an aversion to making eye-contact, never being around So I wish that I could be just like Roseanne, never, ever, ever, ever giving a damn about the way I act and the way that I am, always responding back with some witty retort and I could make a powerful statement while keeping it short

My music I like simple and my drinks I like stiff, my people I like the same, only I hope they give a shit, like if someone will listen to what I have to say, I feel sorry for them because I can't do the same and I wish for a little joy just from in speaking and having conversations with good and well meaning, but I can't fucking do it and it's hard to even show it 'cause all my subject matter has ulterior motives, you can find it both within my words and when I sing, this apathetic state has a duality and I wish I could form a little more, a justified complaint, like a relevant topic in which we'd all feel the same, be it in politics or anything I'd wanna change but that's like asking a rock what it's plans are today And my body's breaking down and my habit's rising up, not a single day goes by where I don't destroy myself, but I guess it's living somewhat when you're furthering your death 'cause I can't stand each breath I take without a cigarette and a generation over god is what I'm hopin' for when we can find a reason not to simply go to war and I'm a corporate slave and I work myself to death, it's been negative 10 months since I've gone without regret, with a shitty wage and no future plans to have I'll try my best not to turn into a modern psychopath and maybe life's an accident without obvious meaning, but either way it's beautiful and won't you help me sing this song of insecurity and not knowing shit for sure, all that I can say is that I'm at a loss for words

Well I've been waiting in this prison for so long that I can't wait until I'm free and I've been holdin' onto these thoughts since I began that I don't know just who I am or what I've become and I've been drinkin' myself into asceticism in the hopes that I'll be a better man, but the only thing that I'll ever become is a vagabond that can't use his tongue and the silence that will wash over me are the shortcomings I'll never believe, it's the promises I thought I would keep that have manifested inside of me, it's the lies that will always remain as they form to truths inside of my brain, if I could only think of a line that would justify my reason in rhyme, then I guess I would feel quite accomplished, but I'm only conveying gibberish Instead I sit here writing songs about my incessant self-loathing, if it wasn't for these things, I wouldn't be strumming strings and I can't even give a fuck about a happy song, I accept the notion that satisfaction means that you are wrong, but in time I've come to find my words are meaningless, only cannon fodder for my glorified helplessness, if you ask me the best way to overcome yourself within, I wouldn't have an answer, but I could sure as hell pose the question

All the ballads have been written and all the songs have been sung, all the prescriptions have been taken and I wholeheartedly feel we have won because a loveless night on the town is my solace when no one else is around and as I walk these desolate streets, I can't help but to think that no one really needs me and it's a shame to go on this way, a lackluster feeling each and every single day and biding my time as I go through unproductiveness, but I really think it shows and I may not have much self-esteem, always berating myself and undermining my dreams and while I may not make any sense, there is a thought I hold true to a very high extent and that's 'sometimes a kick in the nuts is the purest way of saying that you love yourself enough' and I'll take that thought to the grave 'cause no one ever got by from simply staying alive And I wish that I could care about this for any longer than an hour, but apathy soon takes hold and any chance of changing is very soon devoured and any difference I could make disappears as quickly as a writers' mistake and I guess I should be thankful that it doesn't persist and have it turn terminal and sometimes a slap in the face is the soberest way to get shit-faced and I'll buy the crowd 2 or 3, 'cause you know how misery loves its company