[ Featuring His Ghost ]
We are all almost always
Waiting for somethin'
Rarely do I realize
The true quality of the now
Eventually it gets choppy
And chalked up to nothin'
So the thought becomes a page
Then it's something to say
Or sing
Whatever
Okay
It somehow helps to think
Nobody gives a f**k
Maybe that makes it feel
More genuine to me?
Maybe it's the s**thole
Where I grew up?
And still seem to be
But I've found some beauty
In all things absent of humanity
Verse, chorus, verse, chorus
Now we're at the end
Just kinda seems to be
The way she f**kin' went
All this fourth wall bulls**t
If you're a fan then
You're a friend
I don't need all that attention
I'm just some musician
