first verse reads out like a suicide note
ritually writing down an explanation
on a post-it note and sticking it to the wall

i don't know why i tell you anything anymore
it hasn't felt good in so long
it's not a relief it's a task, it's a drag
i'm a programed robot with a few key phrases like:

"i miss you"
"i am lonely"
"i want to die"
"this bed is bigger than i remember before you were here"

before you were here


i'm starting to scare myself
i used to feel bad, but now i only feel nothing
you could kill yourself tonight and i
don't know if i'd even care... at all

i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,
i want you dead, i want you dead,



oxymoron, a statement that contradicts itself inherently.

politics, the political nature to the discourse of our apologies

look

i know, we all, get it, fucked up, sometimes, feels like, shit i, say don’t reflect how i feel.
feel like i see what needs fixing and i break it easy as speed of sound. do you feel me now? or did i make it worse? the former’s the intent, but the ladder’s just how it goes. and what’s the point of intent if the product’s burning coals.

we feel like we’re fucking broken but we’re not.

say it with me now.

i’m not evil, i’m not evil i’m not.
i’m not evil, at least i hope that i’m not.
but who am i to say the person i present is real.
true evil birds it’s time, hides, manifests in how i feel.

fuckin
i’m not evil, i’m not evil, i’m not.
i don’t have time for evil, i’m a good person, i thought.
but i stole that last lyric, so who’s to say that i’m honest.
can’t even vouch for myself, but i’m not evil, i promise.