You suffer from akleptic, anerexic, genitexic pesticideIt hides insideYou don't
Superficiality shouldn't mix with congenialityIt's all a conspiracy if you
Things will get betterI tried to tell myselfThings will work
My little gigapetYeah, we're so closeHe's always nearI never leave
Seems I just can't breakinto the music industry,With my happy
Nate, he was a big mistakeOh Nate, all his dates
spoken: "Ahem, this is my poemfrom me...to you, I wrote
Seems like no one pays attention to meI'm just so
My crusty bed that's all messed upAnd my ronchy ass
So much took place in the last couple daysSo many
You wanna know how I feelWell, here I goFed up
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