Matters of fact don't matter at all. Please let me go and watch me fall. Smoking weed to fill the hole between the gaps, what I want is what I lack. In between coughing fits and panic attacks, when I leave I won't come back. I'm a societal tumor, with bad sense of humor. (Forever no how could I ever forget?) Pity parties in stale Bacardi imposing tales upon tales of my suffering. You're not invited to feel sorry. (If all we are is what we know then we are defined by how we've grown) Knowing myself I know no one would love me. Knowing myself I know no one could.