Worse

There’s somethin' about when things are going to well
That tears me to bits
Nothin' really to complain about
No nothin' to fix
It’s like maybe I enjoy fucking up my headspace
Mental health down the drain
If there’s no issue, no crisis
Then why campaign?
'Cause my problems, you could say
Are easily avoided
But the check that I was written
Was already voided
That shit hurts
Am I a silver tool or just a golden turd
Stuck to the bottom of your shoe?
Lost in the purse
Thinkin' 'bout hiring a curb stomp
Then riding around in a hearse
And though I do my best to rehearse
Somehow I know my words will make it
Worse
I shut my mouth when I’m told that I’m wrong
Truth be damned
When controversy starts to heat up
Don’t wanna burn my hand
But once I was told that I don’t act in my interest
Lookin' like a beaten path
To others a given
To me, too much to ask
And my problems you could say
Have obvious solutions
But I don’t know, sometimes
I can’t tell truth from illusion
That shit hurts
Am I a silver tool or just a golden turd
Stuck to the bottom of your shoe?
Lost in the purse
Thinkin' 'bout hiring a curb stomp
Then riding around in a hearse
And though I do my best to rehearse
Somehow I know my words will make it
Worse