Lost In My Own Mind

Duration

3:10

Genres

Alternative Hip-Hop

Description

Lyrics

12/17/14 11:03 P.M. – Lost In My Own Mind I’m under the influence of whiskey fixed caskets Agreeing politically with the Dixie Chicks fascists I’m burning urgently like quickly lit matches I’m in hell receiving six hundred and sixty-six lashes I’m growing wearisome, of this position of constant delirium It has me in a state of imperium, without a sense of an equilibrium It’s an idiom, to say my conscious is lighter than lithium Cursed for the rest of the millennium, in a dream for a requiem These dark beings are lining up in a single file Waiting to give me a beating as they go on and smile I was sentenced to torture in a previous trail Can’t give them an inch because they’d take a fucking mile Goddamn this is gruesomely vile Might as well grab some popcorn, because I’ll be here for awhile I’m having cataclysms and Armageddon visions Good and evil are having seismic collisions, on provisions with religion Trying to influence society’s decisions to side with their ambitions Without our permission, is what they envision I walk around lost in my own mind Trying to find any kind of sign That my neurons are all aligned But I guess that’s not how my brain is designed Mental health on the decline Darkness is how I’m defined A mental prison is where I’m confined And I’m working on borrowed time Learned to be an introvert from Diabolic I’m a product of an environment, or whatever you want to call it So I was bred by my family to become an alcoholic No wonder why I’m a psychotic, demonic, melancholic walking coffin, with empty pockets I’m made up of a bottle of vodka, crushed Percocets until my nose bleeds A six pack of beer, coke, trees, and gold OCs You call that a suicidal savage at play I used to call that an average day I’m battle tested, with a fragile presence, and a soul never having been attested My mental is shackle destined, counting all my baffled questions, riddled with addled “blessings” I walk with no confidence, because my self-loathing is bottomless Pessimism is dominant, and every day is monotonous Everybody knowing my name, but I rather have the opposite Just want to go through life as an alcoholic and be anonymous But if I do that, it’s fairly obvious, that pretty soon I’ll have my own sarcophagus So I don’t need these androgynous, people pointing out my incompetence I already knew this lifestyle and its consequence It doesn’t take an economist to see I’m setting myself up for no accomplishments My door gets knocked on by the grim reaper and crypt keepers Being harassed by soul seekers, can’t find it? Look deeper You’ll have to look harder than that if it’s my soul you want to be stealing It should be past the traumatic dealings and the suppressed feelings Guarded by the alcohol and Prozac healings Just behind the memory of my belt hanging from the ceiling