The Artist

I’m so tired of trying to sleep
The world around me is no different it seems
I keep trying to turn off my mind
Can’t tell the difference between nightmares and dreams
And so I’m sure I’m not scared of living
I’m not scared of death
I’m just scared of dying slowly
So please don’t be sad when I go
I’ll just be glad to know
If there’s even a show
With my thoughts buried below
The soot in my nails and the grime in my hair
And scent of the ethanol filling the air in my lungs
Is such a glamorous sight, so I’ll play the artist tonight
I’ll turn up the bass, while I lie on the floor
And shoot into my veins till I can’t feel anymor
Although I couldn’t before, I’ve nver really been sure
Whatever life seems to give me I always need more but now I’m
Sure I’m not scared of living
I’m not scared of death
I’m just scared of dying slowly
So please don’t be sad when I go
I’ll just be glad to know
If there’s even a show
With my thoughts buried below
Below the earth I lay, never could be any other way
(Talks of damnation below or above. I can’t come I make art, but I’ll never
make love)
Here’s the choice I made. No one would know If ever stayed
The way that you do, the way that you need, I want you to know you could never
help me
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na