handsome failure – coughing up corporeal dust lyrics
café menu, order number 5
philly cheesesteak, with salad on the side
with the dressing in a little paper cup
put it down beside my plastic plate
so i can sit alone and begin to commiserate
with my coffee, talkin’ to you
and the lettuce, and the spinach, and the carrots too
i talk to the waitress about her kids
but i’m so f+cked up she’s a serpent
and the sky on the ceiling is making me sick
the fan keeps spinning around and around
and i’m fallin’ to the ground i’m on
cause i’m sitting in this chair and my soul’s outside
and i can’t look up, i can’t look down
i’m surrounded by mirrors, i don’t wanna see me frown
and i don’t look like i do normally
well i’m f+ckеd up so it’s bad enough i already dissociate
so whеn i look at my reflection in my coffee
i can’t help but not recognize my face
cause i’m falling and i’m falling fast
sweat drippin’ off of me n’ down the glass
and i’m locked in this cage bein’ laughed at
by all these f+ckin’ idiots that are sittin’ in the back
and they know i got a problem, they just don’t know what
they think i’m f+cked up, but i’m just f+cked up
in a different sense, a simile of sorts
metaphors always hurt my pores
i’ll be bleeding out of my throat, by the time i get home
coughin’ up this vomit from the old home
that i breathed in the smoke on the top of the hill
fell down to the bottom of the valley
and i met my heels and i found my feels
in a bottle of somethin’ it wasn’t pills
i think it was just water, but i can’t be sure
cause nothin’ feels real anymore
and i know it’s an issue that i can’t fix
i’m so displaced that i feel like it’s becoming
a part of my personality
well i’m just a sp+ce cowboy
in the drug store at four in the morning
buying some vitamin c
to make my high last longer
so i don’t have to sleep
i’m the radio host and i hate to boast
but i’ve got so many listeners a day
are they fans of mine or just fans of time
as they slowly drift away
and when i start to come down
and i start to come to
i realize they’re all just bottles
and none of them are you
and no+one listens to me or the things i say
god knows i don’t make sense anyway
i’ve got tie+dye in my heart
i know that’s a weird place for me to start
my skin is made of sugar glass
and my bones of rebar are rustin’ away too fast
drain me of all that i am
doubts in my concrete hands
my plastic eyes will fall out
into my agape f+cking mouth
i’m a beehive of f+cking problems you can’t decide on
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