I don't mind, no,
talking to myself sometimes -- it's fine,
but half the time,
it's enough to make a stronger man cry.
And friends, they'll say
"Well, hey! It doesn't have to be this way."
I'm sure they're right,
but in my life it's been easier
to walk away than stay
and take the blame
for whatever mistakes were made.
Because I can always drink until I drown,
fall hard to the ground.
Sure, it's not much of a life,
but if it works for me, it works.
So, call me insecure (well, sure!),
or maybe you think I'm self-assured.
Another cocky prick that has to crawl
beneath the weight of all his shit.
And, hey! You're probably right.
We can all act like a dick sometimes.
Still, I admit this in the hope
that one day I might get things right.
I mean, why lie?
And to myself this time?
Well, at what price?
You see, there's so little of me left now
to claim as my own,
I'm thinking that this body
must be a home away from home.
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