The Art of Being a Sad Sack of Shit

If it’s actually all fucked now and at an end
Then I guess I’ll never walk home this way again
But I just wanted to see you
I meant it when I said I always do but I know that counts for nothing at all
There’s more cracked concrete round our necks
Since the last time that we checked
I know that one day all there will be to stand on is solid ground
I was just hoping I’d still be around

Another 5am struggle with the urge to shut off the oxygen supply to my brain
Take a handful of pills and lie down again
Just enough to knock me out and dream of never waking up
Curse myself each time I do
Because I’m getting so tired of thinking about
How I was always thought distance would be the dickhead
But it turns out the dickhead was me
Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself
To make sure I shut down easily
Now all that skin is growing over my teeth
And making its way to the back of my throat
But I’m too afraid to apply pressure
So I’ll just sit here and wait til I choke
I know I’ll probably not get an explanation
For you wanting me to leave this place
But If you’d been awake you would have noticed
There was a genuine smile on my face
When I was tracing the lines on your shoulder
Now I’m counting the cracks in my skull
That indicate I’m another year older
And the sensation’s never been so dull