I spent the last few years
Playing mind games with myself through fears
That this is nothing but a place where dreams go to die
Always wondering whether or not I'm alive
And after every item sold I get to wonder, just when the fun gets old.
I consume and consume, yet still feel empty.
My stomach is the brick wall I talk to,
The same wall my eyes are glued to.
My mind runs circles around my neck,
Creating nooses for the purpose of preparing myself for death.
When will I ever get out of this house
When will I ever get out of this place
When will I ever get out of this house
When will I forget familiar faces places faces places faces
You told me I was all,
But now I can't even leave this house.
I'm just a blank canvas all planned out
I'm just a blank canvas all planned out.
Ghost of those that once thought they were the best,
Their epitaphs read, "Sad boys from the Midwest." (xTheAmountofTimesNecessary)
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