One, two, three, four
Comatose and covered in gross viscosity
Burned by ancient hopes and fears and philosophies
Hold my head up for me so I can try to be
Ball and chain and mouth and brain, they just won't agree
Try to pull up the weeds, but the weeds are my home
Try to live underneath, but I'm stuck in a hole
Try to bandage the gash, but the blood's coming through
I don't know what to do
Cold world, come on, kill all responsibilities
Karma carving out other ways to pull my strings
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