Pot Helps pt. 32

I travel by whale fin,
million dollar lips.
I travel and I go into tailspins,
them billion dollar hips,
billion dollar bullshit.
Milly Midwestern as we Vanilli fake this,
this American life.
All open mouths haunting, chasing me with your lies,
suicide
suicide
suicide

Watch me break all of my hand breaking down their face,
watch me get full on emptiness in my usual way.
Watch me walk away,
watch me walk away.
Watch me be one of the collectively forgotten and ignored 18 on any typical day.
Like today: someone help me,
somebody has got to pay,
some have to burn so the rest of us can stay high all day;
and where does that leave you?
who the fuck do I gut if the traitor is you?
How do I keep my blood pumping red if you fill me with blue?
will you?
will you?
will you?
or will you add a different color from the palette to your paintbrush,
if I give you a chance to start anew?

I travel by my own two feet,
a million miles underneath.
I travel and I leave.
Leaving nothing but a little heat,
and even that retreats.
Razor blade dreaming as we pretend to enjoy this,
this American life.
All open mouths haunting, chasing me with your lies,
suicide
suicide
suicide