Staring at a blank piece of paper
Wondering if hospice has gotten me a bed
I've become the straight-laced crusader
Like Marie Antoinette all want me beheaded and dead
Make me the boss of your neon sign prophecy
Chew me up just to spit me out
I'm on an odyssey of honesty searching for the novelty
But gape at my arms they symbolize my doubt
Your either green with envy or nauseous of my individuality
Attracted to a faux tan but settle for a pallid chick
Tragically passive, but an electrifying calamity
So slick and quick; just pick her, she's just so sick
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