This is me, this is my disease.
So take your mud and water and please let me see.
I do not know what I believe.
But if you really loved me, you’d set me free.

I need to know I can but when I let my head fall, I see I’m walking on nothing but clay.
I need to leave you behind, conduct a cut and run, just like my father before me.

I’m considering putting up some of my artwork, only I’m afraid that some fuck will try to say it’s theirs. 

Fucking hate thieves. Hah. 

I don’t know if I will or not.