My life's like trying to swallow a pine-cone. It's tough when you live fast, just to die slow.
I know it don't make sense and I don't expect for you to know what it's like
Sleep, dream, rage, and regretting everyday of my blights
but who on earth really cares? When you're so far left behind that even death looks right.
All I can do is hope for the best and pray that it gets a little better than yesterday.