And I got weight round my waistline
I don't wait long to waste time
But that belt strong from the two times
At a suicide I didn't do right

A bunch of painkillers just makes you sick
Or they didn't react with that vodka drink
And i chased it with Gatorade on new years day
On a bathroom sink

Filled pockets with a Dad's spare change
And pajamas with fresh blood stains
Engrave creeds into skin but they heal up again
No wins, no loss, no gains

Bitch boys that I shared a class with
Bitch friends I shared a glass with
I'd exhale my process
They inhale my past tense

But honestly I'm a better

But catch me with the right song in the early morn
Coming home from a night stretched long
And I stare along the horizon
And hit myself with I'm doing life wrong

Maybe I should write another song
Maybe I should turn those back lights on
Maybe this time I shouldn't blend rhymes
About the only three girls that ever gave me love

Betrayed a trust said it could be mine
Then bust ribs when I'd fight
Blame mental health on the lack of sight
That i failed to see when weren't doing right

And maybe that's fucking boring
And you can't relate
And if you can then my words nothing
To the ignorance of soul mates

There's no such thing as unconditional love
There's always terms and conditions
You can promise me that loyalty
But your lips are splitting the difference

How can you fuck me and not say you love me
How can you love me and not want to fuck me
How many times do i have to give out
To get back what I gave to get you giving up

That process is concrete
So I don't know what that means
Maybe i should fill my feet
Un-scrunch the note I'd leave

How the fuck can a man not cry
I've shed no tears my whole life
I just scream with my dry eyes
And smoke my soul inside

And I got weight round my waistline
I don't wait long to waste time
But that belt strong from the two times
At a suicide I didn't do right

A bunch of painkillers just makes you sick
Or they didn't react with that vodka drink
And i chased it with Gatorade on new years day
On a bathroom sink

Filled pockets with a Dad's spare change
And pajamas with fresh blood stains
Engrave creeds into skin but they heal up again
No wins, no loss, no gains

Bitch boys that I shared a class with
Bitch friends I shared a glass with
I'd exhale my process
They inhale my past tense

But honestly I'm a better