It Doesn't Sound Real

IT DOESN'T SOUND REAL TO ME

I used to crave cement,

what a buzz, what a scent...

Like a poetic, hectic, post-ethics descent.

Then I lived by a stream,

I'm not sure how that went.

False start, bad art, a letter never sent.

Now I dwell in the jungle,

like a six-headed beast.

An exhausting way of living,

to say the least...

Doubt, regret, a taste of defeat

and the memory of two hearts

beating the same beat.

I know what it means

but it's not what it seems.

I know what it seems

but it's not what it means.

I know what it means,

it's not what it seems,

it doesn't sound real to me

I have no escape plan,

I have no job, I'm not a fan,

I need no money, no pity, no helping hand.

I've been gazing at the gates of hell

I'm feeling great, I'm very well,

doesn't matter what they say

the future's here and it's gone insane.