Young artist, is heartless

He feels insignificant

So please pardon

Please don’t harm in

The gods try to arm him

With a strange fruit from a fucking garden

But he’s so confused

He’s fearing that he’ll lose

He doesn’t know what to do

Which way should he choose?

Suicide watch, blood on my clock

The battles fucking over like I’m fucking killing papa doc

The beat stops

It’s beginning to shut down

Apple of her eye

But my windows being shut now

Trapped inside a box

Purchased for a service

Cause I don’t have the service

Of giving more of these verses

With a purpose

So before decomposing

Finish off all my composing

While jimmy burning bush

Not talking moses

Sorry I missed the call

Curtains already closing

Sorry I’m the next victim

That depression has chosen

(Hook) I can’t find my way

Who wants me to stay