Excuse me
Excuse me, for believing in us.
I get very bad colds.
Searching for something dug so deep.
You knew what I’d give up,
So go read my book, lay on a tree.
Mourn your life and how “pathetic it is
To be thee”
Send those signals and wait for me, so you know
What it feels to sting, burn, and bleed.
Maybe then you’ll figure out how far I came
And how raw I will leave.
Clouded was your existence,
That was your own fault.
Screw Marx, Niche, and no its not Einstein’s fault.
Get off your high horse, you lack the degree.
You’ll probably be flattered after you get this read.
Now I know you will tell your friends about me.
But guess what all these millions are at your expense
And your expense means nothing to me.
