count these days, feel like i ran a marathon,
more like a cigarette-a-thon, one three month day,
six more lanes, so much concrete seems irrational,
ive never felt more unnatural,
i watch exhaust blow,
i see that your dead behind your eyes,
all this convenience could never fill the hole that ive dug inside,
real things seem hard to find,
armed to the teeth,
lets kill off every animal, be the only species not extinct, then well have a feast,
people seem so strange its like theyve all been zombified, blurred street lights fill my crying eyes,
i grew some food from the ground,
one thing that made sense in a world that seems so fucking upside down,
washed away this winders reoccuring theme,
of feeling lost and incomplete,
another winters under my belt strip malls they buried corn fields, alcohol is burying me, cut me off while my hearts still beating,
all these stupid games with their fancy names theyll never make you free,
theyll make you numb they dont mean anything