Carolina Reaper

So your coping skills are weak.
You can find me six feet deep in a hole you dug yourself.
You said that you didn't need my help.
But the blood that stains these hands,
they beg to differ.
I know you hate the taste of copper,
but here's a penny for my thoughts.
Cause our wishing well ran dry.
And the novelty wore off.
Treading the waters of nostalgia
but brought down by rusted anchors.
At least I'm consistent.
I'm stuck in complacency.
Can you tell me again that this is worth it?
I'm stuck in redundancy.
I can't do this on my own.
Can you still hear me?
I can't make it all alone.
I saw my heroes turn to fossils.
Like the CDs in my center console.
Can you call this progress or is it all just a dream?
As I'm haunted by the To Be Continued screen.
Is this life for me?
You'd rather watch a train wreck
held with thunderous applause
than stop to watch the sunset.
I can see the writing on the walls.
Remembering the dead is easier
than keeping them alive.
So we'll follow in their footsteps
instead of swallowing our pride.
I hate the taste of copper
but it seems my tongue's been split.
Words and actions speaking out of turn,
my thoughts are losing grip.
I tried my best not to let out the worst in me.
Making the best of this mess that you made of things.
I'm stuck in complacency.
Can you tell me again that this is worth it?
I'm stuck in redundancy.
I saw my heroes turn to fossils.
Like the CDs in my center console.
Can you call this progress or is it all just a dream?
As I'm haunted by the To Be Continued screen.
I saw my heroes turn to fossils.
Like the CDs in my center console.
Can you call this progress or is it all just a dream?
As I'm haunted by the To Be Continued screen.