When I write some shit that's real

When I get a bunch of fans

When somebody understands me

When I win a bunch of Grammys

And Pitchfork writes an article that says that I don't suck

And I laugh off all the praise and claim that I don't give a fuck

But I print the page and frame it and I hang it on my wall

And linger at my name each time I pass it in the hall

And remind myself each time I wanna curl up in a ball that someone whose opinion mattered thought I barely sucked at all

And I throw myself a party and invite a bunch of homies

That'll show me just how many other lonely people know me

Then I'll finally be satisified and be convinced I made it

And I'll taper off my meds and get my license reinstated

I'll buy a truck and camper shell

And learn to play guitar

And every night I'll fuck the girl I love and sleep under the stars

And I'll live out in the country til I get the urge to move and start to feel like I got something left to prove

[Hook]

I'm lost

All out of answers

Exhausted

Homelands I've traveled across

Rolled and I've gathered no moss

Only found that I'm lost

I know the fucking mantras

I've done the daily practice

I've tried restructuring my life

The fact is as this planet roams the galaxy rotating on its axis

I'm still anxious throwing random darts up at the atlas

As if I'll address my issues through the issue of my address

But I can't outlast the shadow of this vast expansive sadness

I'm lying on a mattress feeling tragic

Trying not to let my maturation bleed the world of magic

As if abracadabra could patch my spirit's fraying fabric

And I could go back to feeling all syrupy and ecstatic

I crave a blade that's cleaving through this gruesome havoc

Navigating past my weakest thoughts like weaving through some traffic

But I'm clueless

My habits are the cruelest

And love is not some item I can write on my to do list

And I am not some miracle that walks this lucky ground

Heaven knows that it's the other way around

[Hook]