keep thinking I should do something but nah
I give too many fucks I’m a careless fuck giver A promiscuous worrier
My corner shop only sells cancer and concrete
At any other point in history I wouldve been dead for years
Everything is best Because you Because me
My corner shop only sells cancer and concrete
what would 80s LL COOL J do?
People pour their own desire into what they don’t know or see or something
I'm not a monster I am a monster
silently screaming and contorting myself into awful shapes
Any fucker who says it’s artistic and temperament of artist can fuck right off Mentally illness sucks
I'm not a monster I am a monster
The horror of waking up as myself. Again
what would 80s LL COOL J do?
silently screaming and contorting myself into awful shapes
My only talent is for dreamless sleep As we dig deeper into The hated months
Any fucker who says it’s artistic and temperament of artist can fuck right off Mentally illness sucks
i was panicking that i was forgetting what you look like
nothing happened though i have to recover like something did
I tell the truth against my nature or with you the daylight sneaks in
i sleeps with the fridges
I’m ravenously feasting on bread. It’s expensive and bloatingly decadent
I give too many fucks I’m a careless fuck giver A promiscuous worrier
no food starve die die u bastard