Ironic how I'm the one sinking I never thought I would be gasping for air

Now I look back at all of my choices and can't seem to find out why me, so I call it unfair

I don't think that it could be remotely my fault, I think I was invested it something I loved

And the love came with yours amongst money, and fame and beauty I didn't dream I had chances to touch

But its all in the drain I'm a shell of a man who had everything wrongfully ripped from his hands

I looked out on the lake yesterday and my eyes couldn't find a divide between water and sky

Plus a day before that I was out chopping wood when I thought to myself I need some deeper red

Recently I've been noticing every time that I try painting in colour a part of me dies

So a finger was lost and that minimal cost made the one hue thats ever made me feel alive

Had to kick it off so young and innocent, look where I was at the start and now look where I am

I have made myself into my very own enemy maybe a few mistakes led me to that

But I still thought that people would stomach, I thought that the art in the end would detach from the man

Now I sit with the hundreds of unwanted canvases even with paint they still look just as blank

There's a tightness, a knot that's been firm in my throat, its my body, it deems me unworthy of speech

How I wish I could scream, how I wish I could open the bottle that's trapped all my frivolous needs

All I do now is lay on the floor with a cup and a brush full of red where I torment myself asking

Why does is it have to me all I've had was a hate for the goals that I never could meet

I've been trying and trying and trying to please you but all I've received was more loss and more pain

I had asked you for love and for anything anyone hoping to live a good life would obtain

Guess you thought that since I wasn't smart or with talent I didn't deserve to be treated the same

So I lay here with blood on my brush wanting answers that don't involve me and me being insane

But an energy tells me that I'll never get em, I'm wishing to someone who's given me up

I don't think there's a point in me being here, I keep replaying the moments that make me the cause

Of the chain of events that brought me to my knees, now I'm starting to think that its prolly my fault

I'm just glad that I don't have people that I love who would see me like this who would watch me dissolve

Although maybe I wouldn't have gotten here if I'd have kept them around me to keep me from cold

If I sent them a letter they'd probably respond going on about how I'm no more than a mold

Even though I know damn well society rotted and rot is no thing for a beautiful soul

Let me think it again, society rotted, rot is no thing for a beautiful soul

Don't say its ironic, you should know that you're the reason the earth is hell

If I was to leave a body behind, six feet under hell doesn't seem like enough

I want to be free, far from the agony far from the selfish who bathe in gold

Its ironic how I'm the one sinking I never thought I would be gasping for air

Its ironic how I've been a victim to systems that should have made greatness, its over unfair

I can't leave any trace, if I called it lights out if I shot myself I'd be no more than a case

Of a painter who never had help for his head but I'm far more than that and I am

Getting sick of the living, I'm getting sick of the feeling

Like killing everything this piece of land has ever been given

I didn't want to admit it, that you all hate that I'm different

I bet its difficult to wish that you were gifted

Of course I feel the fear inside body creeping up

But I've been scared since I was old enough to think

I don't care if they assume that I'm a demon

I am levels under anything right now, imma take up with god