It’s been exactly a year since I started writing this song on December 20th, 2023. I wrote it after the worst semester of my life, and it just started coming out as this weird, stream-of-consciousness sort of thing. By the time I finished it, it was over seven minutes long. I wanted to post it now because I wrote this song when I was a very bitter person, and I didn't think that period of my life would ever end, but I'm in a much different headspace now. I hope you'll give the song a listen!
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Lyrics:
Sick like an alcoholic
Solid as a storm
I’m spinning out
I’m touching ground
I’m damaging your dorm
If I could time travel
I’d bring Diana back
And try not to be born
Blameless as a rabid dog
I’m foaming at the mouth
Had one bad high
I swore that I would die
But I came down
And then I laughed for a bit
‘Til I blamed my diagnosis
And the south
Oh, I’m shining like an oil spill,
This iridescent landfill
I apologize, I cannot hide
What leaks from this machinery
I’m scared to death
You’ll get tired of this mess,
Quit cleaning and just
Set fire to the scenery
And I just want you to know
There’s nothing wrong with letting me go
Leave it up to the gods and the undertow
Go on and sink this burning boat
To save yourself
I’ll know, I’ll know, I’ll know
Angry as a father,
I’m nineteen years old
Lost brain cells to the greenhouse gas
It no longer gets cold
But then we did move out to Texas
To chase a Lexus
And fool’s gold
And the sirens sound every day now
My brain’s the same-the leaves are brown
In this town, they die right off the trees
You’re green until you are diseased
So I’ve been praying to the breeze,
“Please immortalize me in my twenties”
And I just needed to say
I’m going stale here on display
You either dry up and stay okay
Or get sold and eaten alive one day
So spare a dime, take a bite, I’m ready
To face that snow white light again
There is no “if” with fate-it’s “when”
And I feel doomsday around the bend
So spare me from seeing it in person
Oooooh (x4)
So spare me
From kitchen table arguments
Spare me
From sermons about hell
Spare me
From Windex-clear reflections
And spare me
Lord, spare me from myself
Spare me
From growing up and never growing roots
Spare me
From sunken eyes and sallow skin
Did you hear that?
I said “spare me from the natural process of aging”
God, it’s happening
I am already shallowing
And spare me
From filling out the prophecy
Spare me
From passing one more test
Spare me
From a life up on the stage
That I so crave
And spare me
From keeping up this jest
Oooooh (x4)
Spare: the drunk, the storm, the rabid dog,
The black-lung smoke, polluted smog
From fire set to oil on the water
Spare: the angry man, the dying tree,
The untouched stale cookie,
And every other version of me
Oooooh (x8)