the last time I was here I thought I died.
the possibilities of endless yellow lines
leads me to here.
I draw blanks all day, scratch lines in the sand.
I’m a bastard at times
and just needs to sleep.
I’ve do things to myself I can’t take.
if I could do it again,
would I make that mistake?
I can’t sleep at night,
and I constantly shake.
I overthought it all, all last week.
I’m the current director of Shit Show I’m in.
All isn’t perfect, sometimes it’s a zoo.
but there is always something around here to do.
harrassed by the cops,
expensive shitty food.
and I’m not a stranger, may the worst come my way,
not a blessing nor a curse.
I’m a danger to myself,
at a boiling over rate....