Habits

I'm like the new age Marilyn Manson inducing panic
The manic is too dramatic
He's drastic, engaging habits
The market is turning static, the power already grabbed it
Independence is erratic, though success is so fantastic
Once achieved I'll be ecstatic, but the road is problematic
Addicted to failure, it's symptomatic
Didn't learn this, it was automatic
But if my options in life were colors I'd be monochromatic
If you didn't understand the statement, I'll try to explain the schematics
I feel like Marilyn Manson, because I intentionally want you all mad at me
Never really fit in, but that's absolutely fine with me
I'm a sick freak, no one could ever love me
And to quote the man himself, "mutilation's the finest flattery"
I'm not trying to encourage it, but I understand why he thinks this way
'Cause if you're gonna hurt yourself over someone who's just going to fade away
Then they damn well better prove their willing to do the same
'Cause the nightmares may stop, but the scars never go away

I've had a lot of lonely nights laying awake and feeling distant
Nobody ever messages, nobody ever checks in
When I get too lonely I revert to these old habits
They always seem to ravage, there's a reason I keep my pants on
Shorts are out of the option when you've made the choices I have
The scars are stories of life, I don't see why I bother hiding them
I should take pride in all my proof of survival
Sign off on the cold sheet that defeats my revival
I've got a problem living, but not with the thought of dying
The images are so comfortable, the stress will all subside then
It makes me think of everything that we would leave behind him
And that's about the time that I begin to break down, sighing
I'd be happy, peaceful in the sky, way up flying
But I'd leave the very few people who love me behind crying
Have them wishing for death, just so they could be beside me
But I'm better off alone, It's not surprising no one liked me