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In a blaze of extreme anxiety and rage, I tried my best to process my emotions.
You're the only one who gets me,
I don't even understand me,
Can you let me know what's wrong with me girl?
I lose control, my thoughts, they take their toll,
And there is no being looking at a reflection booking me,
For a 'vacay' down in Dante's,
But I can say that I feel the pain in the aftermath of this spiritual acid bath.
It builds, it compiles, it accumulates.
But what even is this "it" I'm trying to articulate?
(I bet Epicurus has some thoughts on the matter)
You don't understand me,
I don't understand me,
Fuck this shit and fuck you for blaming me.
I don't know what to tell you,
'Bout all the ways the world failed you,
And the way you look,
And the way you point,
And the way you fucking talk.
Even you're vernacular should be held by Ms. Spectacular and say
"Now show the class how to spot a bullshit philosophy practitioner"
Have sympathy for the idiot.
The mind with a stupid knot in it.
Understand, don't condemn,
Or at least just pretend,
To spend the time with my kind,
And not laugh,
And not curse,
'Cause I can't even get a verse.
And my nurse is the shit that helps me be more than worst.
I know you.
The kind that laughs,
With your friends behind my back.
And the smack that you say,
To and from my stupid face,
Is the kind of shit that makes me want to kill myself.
I feel like my face down.
And I think I've moved on, but who am I to say?
But who am I to say,
About the way they may play?
But who am I to say?
Please don't stay,
And I'm talking to myself,
And It's been 15,
And I've heard dad do this,
So I guess it's in my genes.
And I can't pretend I'm indifferent - I'm mean perception commitment.
'Cause the way you see me seems to be the only 'me',