Young artist, is heartless
He feels insignificant
So please pardon
Please don’t harm in

The gods try to arm him
With a strange fruit from a fucking garden
But he’s so confused
He’s fearing that he’ll lose
He doesn’t know what to do
Which way should he choose?

Suicide watch, blood on my clock
The battles fucking over like I’m fucking killing papa doc
The beat stops
It’s beginning to shut down
Apple of her eye
But my windows being shut now
Trapped inside a box
Purchased for a service
Cause I don’t have the service
Of giving more of these verses
With a purpose
So before decomposing
Finish off all my composing
While jimmy burning bush
Not talking moses
Sorry I missed the call
Curtains already closing
Sorry I’m the next victim
That depression has chosen

(Hook) I can’t find my way
Who wants me to stay