Texty: Therapy?. So Much For The Ten Year Plan. Straight Life.

Fucker!

My tongue is twisted from talking
My feet are blistered from walking alone
My head is bursting with thoughts
And every bruise feels so familiar
This city's buzzing with bastards
Cancer tans and plastic disasters
Wannabees and users and makers
Impotents and shake city fakers

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
And don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life

My system's sick with poison
Heart's bitter joys are jumping
Far away from better days
And everything feels so familiar
My arms are fed up reaching
My voice is through with breaking
Myself, I'm sick of reason
Every bruise feels so familiar

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
Don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
So don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
Don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
So don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life

So don't tell me everything's alright
And don't include me in your straight life
So don't tell me everything's alright
In your straight life
In your straight life, in your straight life
In your straight life, in your straight life
In your straight life, in your straight life
In your straight life, in your straight life
In your straight life