All my dead friends got me hoping ghosts exist
Heart frozen on some Nova Scotia sh**
No longer spending time in rooms smoking motionless
Only 21 but still I know I've grown too old for it
Stick to the doctor's hopeless potion mix
Like "Oh you're sick? Here, hocus pocus. Fixed"
Does it really work? f** no, but yo I wish
Been emotionless, spreading love like a socialist
I only got a few friends that I know exist
Everybody else is make-believe, I notice it
I been diseased a couple years and ain't been sober since
Treating every moment with the notion that I'm owed the sh**
And have no clue what focus is
Via that, I meet obstacles that I get over with
A leap like a f**ing doberman
Making noise like a bull dozer when
It's mowing over chauvinists
I'm a closure donor to the grown-up kids
My composure says "forever f** exposure", posers are opponents
Envy is a heavy stench, they close in with the odor
This lack of gravity has got my rover going slower
That's a metaphor for that I'm slow as sh**
See my dream ahead of me, and go for it
When I reach it, stick my head out like a gopher, it's
A pretty sight I know it is
But not enough to show a grin
Rip a smile and sew it with
That string of lonesome stoned events I'd grown within
The stars paint a landscape that my mental state's home is in
Living out an odyssey like Kubrick and Homer did
My actions speak like my words do, but when
They do speak they're choking upon my lack of wholesomeness