All I want to do is
smoke and complain
How many damn years?
what a fucked up brain
how much more time
on the couch to fix it
waiting for the stroke,
the attack to mix it
I know I know I know
it's so tedious
such a such a whiner
so so needious
not like some murdered kid
in Syria
how dare I complain
in my numb deleria
Sorry sorry sorry
I'll get better soon
If I can't sing something nice
I'll whisper to the moon
You couldn't bring it to me
but I caught it in the water
and threw it 'cross the wooden floor
and dropped it dosed on blotter
what
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