I’ve been waiting on a windowsill like I got a cup of bad luck and some time to fill
Some brain cells to kill
I’m satiating cravings with contagions and confusing conversations, will
You please help me, I’ve grown a conscience
It seems to be telling me to ignore common sense
And pretend I’ve still got relevance tied up in the back
Like some cat who owes me two pence
And I’ll spend my hours like a credit card
Like I spent my childhood in somebody else’s backyard
I’ll rack up a debt of regret that I’ll aim to forget
And I’ll miss and then hit on some awful intent
My incentive is fainting like goats who are scared
I’m more unprepared than me at the front of class in my nightmares
I’m so selfless it’s selfish, I’m un-self-aware
Like a circle describing corners to a square
I can’t even get there where you are
I’m too near, you’re too far
I’m too weird, you’re too scarred
I’m talking to myself again
When will my shelf-life end
Hey, can we still be friends
After I go incorporeal?
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