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