I got this thing and this thing is alright,
nobody knows why but somebody might.
It keeps me alive but it kills me inside,
I'm worth more dead than I'm worth alive.

I'm tired of living, I'm tired of life,
I'm too tired to end this but too tired to fight.
So tell me bald man, tell me with your big stick,
tell me to open up, yeah tell me all of that shit.

See, I know I'm not special but I cant seem to keep,
dancing like a battery chicken with no fucking feet.
Because I've seen this big picture that you speak of so much,
you say its beautiful and we should all give a fuck.

Well that's all good mister enlightened, miss right.
I must be broken, it must be the devil inside.
It's not hard to fix this infact it's easy.
Just blame it on something that you cannot see.

My Lord, My Lord, My Lord,
what makes you better than me?

So if you're sick of my sadness, if you're sick of this song.
Just know I'm sick of your lessons and I'm too sick to go on.
For the wise cannot help me as they don't really know,
and the ones that did they died with a shotgun under their nose.

I am the germ and I am the cure,
I want to be everything and I want to be more.
Don't look at me but don't look away,
I need you to leave me but I need you to stay.

Will these words matter and will they live on?
Will they make me famous, will they make me a god?
I despise this person and I despise myself,
I want to be grateful and I want mental health.

It's funny how I seem unstable and burnt,
it's funny how this rock will continue to turn.
So why am I not laughing, why cant I be?
What the fuck is it that I'm failing to see?


My Lord, My Lord, My Lord,
what makes you better than me?

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