This entire thing is a plot to destroy my low self-confidence
I’m trying as hard as I can not to lose myself in all of this
Through failed relationships and regretful sentiments to everyone I know
It’s probably safer if every night I just stay home
And kids will laugh and say that all my music sounds the same
It’s got those solemn melodies, I’m sure he’s real weak at the knees
But what they don’t know is I’m paralyzed by constant streaks of black bag eyes
It took me this long to realize that everything I compose sounds the same
And everything is about everything I hate