I've been wearing me inside out
you've been wearing yourself thin
blaming it all on the circumstances
(there's) not really much we could have done

Now all this flesh parades before me for the grab
a tragedy no one knows how to act
these players ignore when to bust out crying
or fake choking when their throat is getting stabbed

How many fucking post-s must you add
for your art to feel real again
it's not a novel it's what you fucking play
"We need more post-post-words for the post-post-man"

Well I never ever asked her where she'd go
she said "I don't get you anymore"
she'd like me better without fucking worries
spend my days taking selfies in the sun

Serenades and low-cost housing
shitfaced still trying to fuck
with a pink eye and a quarter chub
hellbent for leather still fucking up the knots

She said "Have you tried it, (walking) in my shoes?
I just wanna forget my name and yours too."
she's crying "Get me away from here"
everyone wants that baby, get away from pain
but there are no better places
this Void is everywhere

And sometimes there's bombs
no shelter, no water, no food
and those people aren't just fucking numbers
random lines of text in the bottom corner of the news

And what about us?
we seem alive but that's just a tourism stunt
they roam our hills, streets and towns
drink the guts of our land from a dead man's bowels
then fly the fuck home