Equation

One is so lonely, with self made problems Two will rob your wallet, and add three with no condoms Four makes you reminisce about your own come up Five is your body count, you're calling her a slut? Six is unholy, Even he needs a day off Seven in Vegas, Im the fucking city's Jackpot Eight potential years of this bullshit in the nation Nine Nine Nine skin heads, all acting racist A dime bag, go and smoke it till your lungs sting 11 odd thoughts in your head, all stranger things Amazingly, the clock struck midnight You lived another day asking 13 reasons why All these goddamn symbols, justify a certain value Certain debts, Certain Stresses, while you taking down some valliums Then you kick the bucket, end up six feet under And then were back at square one, the loneliest number