Here's to dirtying your Vans and doing photoshoots, stoned, on the train tracks and pushing everything you know away and being such a disappointment and such a success. Well I'm open to the best of it all, but I'm hurt when the worst comes my way. I wanna shrug it off. They stand to watch me fall but this skully says "CSTV," do you know what that means? No I don't watch college sports on TV. I'm growing, and this hats the only thing that fits my head. So, I wear it proud and half off like some hipster who tries to stand out. but, I'm just comfortable. I wear my own skin. I feel my own clothes. I don't open up too much. I have a lot of secrets that no one can know. I fuck up a lot. I'm not at all religious, but I curse religiously for emphasis. I'm probably a douche. No one likes a douchebag. That explains why I'm short on the number of friends I have. But, I'm living sorta kinda and I can only ask for more. Here's to quasi-depression and learning every lesson through nature down by the Pipe. I live in Rahway where kids go the wrong way for all the wrong reasons, and minds change like season when something new appears. It's like the latest fad is calling me a fag because I sing about my feelings 'cause no one else has feelings, apparently. Well you self righteous assholes can suck on my dick 'cause I really stopped caring about your shit. I've got things to learn and I'm gonna do good by myself. 'cause I wear my own skin. I feel my own clothes. I don't open up too much. I have a lot of secrets that no one can know. I fuck up a lot. I'm not at all religious, but I curse religiously for emphasis. I'm probably a douche. No one likes a douchebag. That explains why I'm short on the number of friends I have. But, I'm living sorta kinda and I can only ask for more. I used to be on Tumblr till I didn't have the time; and I don't know the name of every lead singer in the bands I listen to 'cause I listen for the music to figure out their stories for myself. I think I need help. I think I need help. I think I need help. 'cause I wear my own skin. I feel my own clothes. I don't open up too much. I have a lot of secrets that no one can know. I fuck up a lot. I'm not at all religious, but I curse religiously for emphasis. I'm probably a douche. No one likes a douchebag. That explains why I'm short on the number of friends I have. But, I'm living sorta kinda and I can only ask for more. Well, I'm living sorta kinda, but what am I asking for? What am I asking for?

Colossal home. I'm some colossal home burning down to the ground from matches meeting drapes and it seems everyone is watching, but no one's found the hydrant to put me out or put me down. Enormous tent. I'm some enormous tent blowing away in the wind 'cause no one tried to stake me to the ground. And I go on and on forever, watching things pass involuntarily. So no more shelter for you. No more shelter for you, or anyone, or anything. No more roofs to take the beatings we avoid, and no more doors to let you in. Oh, there's no place to go. I'm the house up on the hill and I'm the storm that's gonna blow me away, or so they say. Extraordinary ship. I'm some extraordinary ship sinking from the iceberg crash; and overturning hourglass. And it's my fault, I should've been more careful. I should've been responsible. I shouldn't have taken the wheel at all. So no more shelter for you. No more shelter for you, or anyone, or anything. No more roofs to take the beatings we avoid, and no more doors to let you in. Oh, there's no place to go. I'm the house up on the hill and I'm the storm that's gonna blow me away, or so they say. Oh, it's suicide, it's do or die and I've done way too much doing for one night. I've been following the rules and I've been missing out on life; and I've lost my only chance to rehabilitate, alright? And I know I'm down on myself, but these songs are all I have; and if honesty is key, then it's these locks I'm out to grab until I find the way out because I'm 18 with a dream. Oh, I'm 18 with a dream. I'm 18 with a dream, and I'm breaking at the seams. (x2) So no more shelter for you. No more shelter for you, or anyone, or anything. No more roofs to take the beatings we avoid, and no more doors to let you in. Oh, there's no place to go. I'm the house up on the hill and I'm the storm that's gonna blow me away, or so they say. Or so they say.

Am I legitimate? Am I all of what they say? Are these chizzled bones that shape my form just decorations to a disaster waiting to happen? Am I worth it? Am I just a compulsive over-reactor with semi-practical ways? Or am I just exhausted? I mean, it is late and I am yawning. Maybe I should get some rest. Maybe that would be what's best. But, I gotta know, am I whatever you need? Are you sure? I can't fight these doubts. The degree to which I believe, you won't believe what I see when I look in he mirror. It's not me, oh, I'm just not me. I don't know. I wish that I had something more to say. I can paint a vivid picture with these words that sound like scriptures and I script all of my speeches to different relinquished extents. I need hope, I need sanity, I should not feel this good. I should hate who I've become and I do, but I've never loved myself more than now. 'cause this non-confrontational warfare is painful, I should not be able to speak. But it is late and I am yawning. Maybe I should get some rest. Maybe that would be what's best. But, I gotta know, am I whatever you need? Are you sure? I can't fight these doubts. The degree to which I believe, you won't believe what I see when I look in he mirror. It's not me, oh, I'm just not me. 'cause these September winds are ferocious and these eyes that I see with are blind and this tongue that has slick and these lips that can't kiss make the mouth of the damned man I am. But I'm picking up your scent through the breezes. My senses, my senses, please don't fail me now. But it is late and I am yawning. Maybe I should get some rest. Maybe that would be what's best. But, I gotta know, am I whatever you need? Are you sure? I can't fight these doubts. The degree to which I believe, you won't believe what I see when I look in he mirror. It's not me, oh, I'm just not me.

If I could extend my sentences like I do my metaphors, I’d be a hell of a conversationalist. And if I could expose my flaws in other ways than through this music, I’d be arrested and sentenced to life. If you could see my despair through my thick frames and my thick head, you;d probably know why I’m an anti-social fuck. And if you could grasp this concept, this anti-superior complex, then you could figure out what I’ve done. But we’re all just wrecking balls, pounding on an indestructible wall, trying to find where we belong. We chip away at times, and break the chains to run to our demise, and sometimes it feels right. If I could pretend I’m decent, and not reprimand the recent, then maybe I’d qualify as more than half of a life. And if I could stop and think and not try too hard to blink, then maybe my vision wouldn’t be so blurry. But we’re all just wrecking balls, pounding on an indestructible wall, trying to find where we belong. We chip away at times and break the chains to run to our demise, and sometimes it feels right. It feels right. It feels right. Oh, it feels so right. But we’re all just wrecking balls, pounding on an indestructible wall, trying to find where we belong. We chip away at times and break the chains to run to our demise, and sometimes it feels right.