covered in hope and vaseline
still cannot fix this broken machine.
watching the hole, it used to be mine.
just watching it burn and my steady, systematic decline.
after everything i've done, i hate myself for what i've become.
i tried.
i gave up.
throw it away.
i think too much, i'm gone too much, i smoke too much, i drink too much
i'm way too much too stuck up
you're probably right
but i don't want to listen
you're probably right, this time,
but i don't even care
and if it was mine to say, i wouldn't say it.
