I was holding the weight of the world when the ground collapsed
Misery sure loves company; she’s been bugging me for my autograph
I’ve put a lot of work into charting my own demise on a graph
To fall short on the handful of things I’ve done worthy of my craft
I’m an enigma to my own self, sucking the life out of my own hell
You call this lust; I call it a pharmaceutical way to fall in love
I’m tired of pretending I’m fine just to please the sheepish masses
So I threw away the Prozac because I’m done trying to mask it
Maybe this is the price I pay for my delusions of grandeur
It’s karma coming around to kick me when I stand there
And now I’m afraid to fall asleep because I’m that much closer to death
And I’m afraid to spend my money because I’m that much closer to debt
If you really loved me you’d realize that was a big mistake
Cuz if you leave your heart around me, it’ll be mine for the take
I never thought that losing could really feel this opaque
Always thought it’d be a transparent feeling running on an empty tank

I march to the beat of my own drum; it’s why I move like a tank
This happens when a rock and a hard place become engaged
I’m the sum of all my parts, including those both cruel and vain
Don’t believe in god, I’ve got better things to do then pray my life away
Like pick myself up from the floor and tap into my own strength
Being delusional has its perks, so does meeting disaster at arms length
I’m a crazy masochist; I kill myself slowly for lines to relay
Back to an audience that doesn’t appreciate my slow decay
There is so little left of me, I often just fade away at the end of the day
People leave when they find out there’s not much left of me to save
What can I say? I’m just a ghost that got trapped in this machine
Searching for a living soul that cares enough to intervene
I sing sad songs all day because these lyrics are what have become of me
I’m less like saint and more like a sinner doused in flames
I guess that makes me a martyr for a world I can’t understand
But who persecutes me anyway because that was always the master plan

During these Remeron dreams I just count electric sheep
It’s a symptom of growing up plugged into a machine
Where is your savior now? I think he transformed into me
If he’s the Son of God then I’m the son of god’s reprieve
You say that you can’t understand all the big words that I speak
That has more to do with you than it does with me
I dress up statements in bolded phrases meant to repeat
My delusions to a world of delusional inconsistencies