2 am

The whiskey gentrifies my veins

To many thoughts to sleep and I’m surrounded by 

City steeples

Shitty people

Living in a game show about blowing up balloons

And I must be the villain cause

I can never seem to win

There are many ways that a man can lose his hands

Like laying them on train tracks and not giving second chances

Both seem equal 

Somewhat evil

Guess that’s the consequence of being so demanding

And I must be the villain cause

The villain always has one hand

Am I alone now

Cause I can never seem to tell

With all these voices in my head

That tell me I’m not doing well

If I can face it

Rearrange it

Make it scream at someone else

Well maybe I won’t be the villain cause

That’s something I just told myself