Week

Fuck the weekend
Im just weak, end
I hate the truth
Memories leakin
Im pullin my hair out
Nothing decent
In wasting time
See, id rather be dreamin
Fuck the weekend
Im just weak, end
I hate the truth
Memories leakin
Im pullin my hair out
Nothing decent
In wasting time
See, id rather be dreamin

Sitting on the top
Of the house of cards
Collapsing
Now a fresh restart
Emerging
Like a brand new chapter
Of a book im merging
Together from
Old piеces of paper
I used to writе on
And keep on my table
I live in a fiction
Where many people
Know my craft
My vision
Screaming my lyrics
On the top of their lungs
And my appearance is what i want
No fear, no dark
No past just a restart
Each night different pictures
Run the same mind
Same find
Each day growing tired
Of being tired
One of a kind
Where do i go when
I grow old of this
Will i
See the sun rise and fall
Or limit my view to these walls
When everything else falls down
I know i can come back around here

Fuck the weekend
Im just weak, end
I hate the truth
Memories leakin
Im pullin my hair out
Nothing decent
In wasting time
See, id rather be dreamin
Fuck the weekend
Im just weak, end
I hate the truth
Memories leakin
Im pullin my hair out
Nothing decent
In wasting time
See, id rather be dreamin
Fuck the weekend
Im just weak, end