Lackluster

I’ve opened up to strangers.
I’ve told the whole goddamned truth.
To those I’ll never see again.
And I find comfort in.
Someone out there knows me better than I’ll ever know myself.
And I’m comfortable with that.
I spent my entire fucking life, worrying what other people thought of me.
I put their opinions up on a pedestal.
And the chainsaw cuts my feet, rusted gears wearing down the teeth.
Exposing my bones and my true lackluster potential.
But the burden of these city lights will serve as a reminder.
Whoa-oh! Whoa-oh!
Yeah the burden of these city lights will serve as a reminder.
Oh I’m wasting, I’m wasting away.
Choking on self-apathy.
Oh I’m wasting, I’m wasting away.
A fucking joke, I’m a parody.
Oh I’m wasted, I’m wasted today.
These nights are my therapy.
And these songs won’t save the world but they’ll save me.
I’ve driven one hundred thousand miles,
circling this god-forsaken neighborhood.
One day I swear I’m gonna get out of here.
But the anchor begins to rust. Self-made promises turn to dust.
And the days they turn to weeks, to months, to years.
Because you can’t put a price on the head of man who is dying.
No you can’t put a price on the head of a man who is dying.
Oh I’m wasting, I’m wasting away.
Choking on self-apathy.
Oh I’m wasting, I’m wasting away.
A fucking joke, I’m a parody.
Oh I’m wasted, I’m wasted today.
These nights are my therapy.
And these songs won’t save the world but they’ll save me.
I’ll live and die, I’ll live and die. I’ll live and die where I reside.