Every Week, Autonomy

I gotta say, your indignant cynicism is a little bit contagious in its own way
And I can't help but tell myself that it's okay
That I've slipped into this unexpectedly lengthy bout of indifference

Once upon a time these slumps would come and go
Lately though, I've been losing hope
Where's it goin'? I don't even know
Blown out with the gear and cones and durry smoke
Or stuttered out between uncertain words one of the times that we last spoke

Can't shake the feeling that I'm pissing away my time
With every week, autonomy looks more like just a life of crime

I used to write about the privilege of apathy
Used to have a million different ways of phrasing
My disdain for lack of action from the ones that talk the talk
Now fucked if I recall the last time that I bothered trying to walk the walk
Or even the last time that it bothered me that I don't give a fuck

Can't shake the feeling that I'm pissing away my time
With every week, autonomy seems more like just a life of crime

It's not that I'm not happy
It's not that I'm not content
Just never thought I'd grow complacent
And become all that I resent