How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know This weakness I feel I must finally show.
I need a job because I need money because I want some tattoos and I want new shoes and I need to save up so I can afford a place out west because I need to get out of Shepherdstown before I want to turn my half joking about killing everyone into a not joking at all felony.
One day I'll be out of this place; away from these people that I truly cannot stand. I'm sick of biting my tongue and eating my words. Keeping everything I have to say to all of you nice and bottled up. When that day comes, watch your backs people of Shepherdstown, you're going to get quite the earful.