Can't You Just be Happy for a Minute?

So we hit that bong with sorrow, maybe tomorrow will be the day I leave the house

I don’t mean to spoil yr session

My concession to those tomorrows running out

Sometimes, it just hits you

And in those bleached bleak weeks that follow, the smoke we swallow under plastic ceiling stars

WritingthisisallI’vegottotryandblockthesadandkeepthestressin, call it confession but it’s the only cut that scars

Sometimes, it just hits you

Sometimes, it just hits you