Give me your happiness. Give me your sucess, your smile, your face, your everything. I hate where you are sitting, matter of fact, I should be sitting where you're at.
I feel like trash, I don't feel good enough As blunt as it gets, let me confess:
Lately, I don't deem highly of myself, I ruminate over my flaws, I nest parasites in my inside. See, I thought I had it all, I thought I had it all, but oh, I'm sour and starving.
Feed me with your eyes, how can I be sure I exist otherwise?
I feel like trash, I don't feel good enough. As blunt as it gets, let me confess,
Lucky you, lucky me, I've been rolling alone, Manic marauders herdin up only calls for mercy: We, hyenas, serve last, we're willing to end our own kind outta hunger; It's a bless held well and quietly.
Would stealing your life ever make me feel better?
I feel like trash, I don't feel good enough. And when hell's 'bout to break loose, I resound those words:
Manage all absesses in the bone, Composure is power; keep the muck in your marrow. Composure is power.