Walk the market aisles
And my hands and mouth are science
Paper on the piano
I cant find my friends
My face is a disease
You can tell I'm losing it again
A happy medium
Credit in the red
To make my future look good
I'm gonna need to find
Looking for a girl, I asked out when I was 10
And I just don't fit in
Then smoke some ugly more
My body is a temple
Smoke till my mouth gets furry
Let the juices flow
Everythings okay, I'm obviously unhappy
My youth is dead
Too unfit for the gym
Being alive right now is sore