I do my part by not killing spiders
I'm entertained by the drying of paint and accepting kisses from strangers
My ego crushes all my good intentions
The amount of people born and dying each day should make you question your importance
And after all the stupid tasks of each and every day I get rewarded by having time to get my silly thoughts and silly worries sorted into little phrases that don't mean anything
But they make me smile and for a while I will forget everything

I am the weeds that grow between the cracks
There burns a jealousy inside of me as I gaze up at your mighty trees
I cut your swollen belly open
Deliver the child that cries and ushers a new era of dissapointment

I'm getting off
I'm getting out