MicrowaveMyPain

Yeah… haha, turn that shit up, it still sounds like trash.

Perfect.

Wake up mad, break the glass, pour my drink in the sink,

Life’s a fin’ mess, might as well let it stink.

Ain’t a soul I trust, not even me, I think,

Talk cheap, but my time? That s extinct.

I don’t give a fuck, I microwave my pain,

Still cold in the middle, like my goddamn brain.

Try to play me once, I’ll forget your name,

Try to play me twice, bitch, that’s your grave.

Smokin’ out the window, watch the ash fall slow,

Still broke, still dope, still don’t know.

They said “chase dreams,” so I ran from home,

Now I’m sittin’ with the reaper on a prepaid phone.

I don’t give a fuck, I microwave my pain,

Still cold in the middle, like my goddamn brain.

You flex online, that shit so lame,

I’m in the woods with a blunt and a propane flame.

Yeah, tell ‘em play that shit back —

Nah, not that one — the one that sounds like depression with a drum kit.