we're sat in a room full of smoke
and ive come to the realisation im not good enough for you
i havent come close
ive been hoping that i choke,
on my rage when i fall asleep.
and next time when i die,
it'll be more than just a dream
365 days later and im sat in my room with an empty
packet of chesterfields i promised id save
and simpsons playing in the background
its not where i thought id be 5 years ago,
but its where i am.
since last year ive quit college twice
and wrote an ep about wanting to die.
but apart from that ive done nothing with my life.
all the cigarettes and spliffs ive smoked over the past year
still smash my fucking chest in, coughing up my lungs and spitting out blood
wondering if id grab any life changing opportunities if i could.
Or whether im intentionally nothing.
What if you were right? and i am nothing.
and im sick, of watching my knuckles bleed, fucking everything up
and not being what you need
What if you were right? and i am nothing.
and im sick, of watching my knuckles bleed, fucking everything up
and not being what you need