Things Will Get Worse

I'm in terrible shape

Indenting a twin size mattress we both knows seen better days

Drifting off in space

I slept in my clothes, I have no self control

I can barely recognize my own face

And you say that you don't get it

Well you probably never will

Your pedantic grabs at compassion

Come up shorter ever still...

And I hope that things will get worse

And I hope I beat you into the dirt

Take all my money and all of my clothes

But leave my guitars

I'll play em when I'm a ghost

Well you saw me again

And you ask what I'm thinking

I'm back on the meds

And I've been doing less drinking

I know it's good for my health

But why can't I fetishize destroying myself?

Another New Years resolution

Failed by January 5th

Another batch of half baked excuses

Cmon man get a grip

Oh cmon man get a grip

And I hope that things will get worse

And I hope I beat you into the dirt

Take all my money and all of my clothes

But leave my guitars

I'll play em when I'm a ghost