I'm trying not to be irrational,
My lackluster is passionate
But a bastard child stands here at my feet.
I don't know what to do with him,
This fat cluster of sweat and in the end
We're all just a pile of meat.
Nothing seems too practical,
Your self esteem is laughable
But lacking in the way you choose to speak.
I'm sick and tired
Bored and wild
And trying to find a reason just to leave.
I don't know what to do with him
I don't know what to do with me
And in the end were just a pile of meat.
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