Weirdo Years

It's ancient and predictable
Too smart to be happy and
Too dumb to be a success
Mum's done her best and raised you wrong
Backbone like a stick and a
Head filled with Jungian slips

Music's a terrible conduit
For serious themes like
Dying alone with no peace
What an ironic end to thee, I think
Cry while I try and sleep
Wish I had drowned in my dreams

Am I chasing that one thing I'm not allowed?
You might love me but you sure don't like me right now
What I am striving for is more or less
Truth in myself

Gonna get your goat eventually
How can I be a man this week?
Weirdo years far from complete
I'm grappling for reality
It's art through adversity
Dad's been far too kind to me

God damn, I'm bored by my own speech
A privileged and passive life
Some say I'm barely alive
What does it mean to be a man this week?
Couldn't tell you even if I knew
The truth's lost on piss-ants like you

Am I chasing that one thing I'm not allowed?
You might love me but you sure don't like me right now
What I am striving for is more or less
Truth in myself

Maybe I'm chasing that one thing I'm not allowed
You might love me but you sure don't like me right now
What I am arriving for is more or less
Truth in myself



Credits
Writer(s): Edward Peter Wetenhall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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