Hello, irony, my friend

What's today's wise words?

Your comfort's hollow

Now will you tell me that it's gonna be allright?

Like day turns into night?

I'll prove you wrong

Dreaming myself to death

Blinded by feelings I've made up

Grinding anxiety

Is making me feel like I'm choking

Ira quod despero my lovely gift from you

My hour is dark as always, sir

Now shove that dirt out of your pot

Your shit out of your slot

And walk away

Dreaming myself to death

Blinded by feelings I've made up

Grinding anxiety

Is making me feel like I'm choking