We're the middle children of history man, no purpose or place
We have no great war, no great depression
Our great depression is our lives

Sold out shows, but I don't believe in souls
So I doubt these shows gona to leave me feeling whole
A couple blunts I blow and now I'm idolized, a role model
That'll get 'em to get me to model clothes
I'd rather snort up roxy's 'til that dope bottle rattle
Nope, I'm not about to tackle yet another problem
I'll have to put this one at the bottom
I feel like fucking Sodom and Gomorrah, but life is sweet
Another black petal falling down right at my fucking feet
Another flower rotten, a bouquet of efforts, sour scents are haunting my defeat
Sold out funeral, no live nation fee
Captivate 100,000 people, still me and the reaper me
100,000 want to meet me, I hope they'll let me be

[?]

I'm able to paint a picture most people can't even see
Basquiat mixed with Monet when that herron in me
Self-critic that's speaking in cryptic, defying the laws of physics
Let me be specific, sadistic, Mr. Pessimistic
$lickity $loth, the motherfucker they call the Anti-Christ
Used to dream of fans chanting, screaming that $uicide
Now I get on Instagram and they posting my personal life
I promise it's not what it seems
Climb up just to fall down a stream
Drag me to the river
The richer I get, the worse my liver gets
No strippers on my zipper
Still in my room, keep it dark as I can
Remember scraping up change just for cigarettes
Immortalized $uicide, no, they won't forget