I wake up, groggy eyes, forcing me to pound the snooze,
I wake up to a diary unwritten, and the sound of news,
See the flashing figure eight, I hope the day asks for a bigger wait,
I have another chance to ask the laughing trigger ona date,
I'm tired, tired of not being proud of my own fuckin work,
I'm stuck with this jerk, who keeps saying tuckin yer shirt,
And he sucks at clerk, plus I've worked the whole nine yards,
I'm sick of stocking, I'm sick of strict talking of time cards,
I know not all jobs are tough, but I know most are hard,
Maybe I can send you a post card, after I join the coast guard,
I put my sweaty hand in my pockets, and all I find is lint,
Look at my bank account, just to see every dime is spent,
And I agree to it, there's my name written in the fine print,
I'm just so fuckin tired of having to nickel and dime,
I can work a deal with Grim, so he can bring his sickle this time,
And each crusty eye ask how long til my sight clears
Fighting other people when I should fight mirrors,
Hating yourself, my dreams are nothing but gloomy nightmares,
I ask God, will I be another slab of concrete on top of grass,
My name imprinted on the headstone, will any one stop and ask,
What was behind those pretty blue eyes dazed in insecurity,
I ask God more, how much have these lies raised my worry,
Will I be a flame in the dark, or a pitiful pitbull, too ashamed to bark,
So heres just a tidbit everyone of my songs are rough drafts,
Worrying about this and that and if Ill get enough laughs,
So am I a rock stuck in a hard place, do I need a card ace,
Just to convince my doubtful mind I'm up to par to race,
Heres a picture of my scarred face, yea my face has scars,
My life is just like a two way street if you only erase the cars,
Either that or you can race the cars past space and mars,
So far away that theres not even a slight trace of stars,
Don’t ever just listen to the hook, just the grace on the bars,
Those same exact blue eyes know all about distortion,
I hope if anything I say, you never doubt my misfortune,
I'm deep in thought, wondering if this weak peak will drop,
Contemplating and thinking if I should try and leap or not,
So I sit alone in darkness missing home, ask if bliss is known,
Then why whatever I do all I do is just piss and moan,
This fight to sum Is heavier then if you like it and hum,
Ironically this feather weight pen is as light as they come,
Most of the time I try and bite my tongue, damn right its numb,
So I’m trapped in a cage, of people saying I need to act my age,
As soon as this demonic ball point pen taps the page,
All corners of my emotions are present wrapped in rage,
And somehow I know I couldn’t even if I was trying to escape,
That’s exactly what the world tries to call denying your fate,
So I guess I'll wave hello to the devil as hes lying in wait,