Every sick, fickle fucker

Childhood is what makes ya

Till they treat ya like tundra

Weigh those opinions

More like air than lead

Every planned occupation

Surefire disappointment up ahead

Till they treat ya like desert

See mirages of friendship, face turns red

aaaaaaah shit

Here's the soon to be anchor

Build bridges to nothing, you'll get nowhere

I don't feel and it feels fine

Every governor's mother knows

That their bread is buttered by Sam

And what about science?

they find proof and let you make your own decisions

Every childstar wonders

If they have a future up ahead

Every kindhearted banker

I don't think there is one

Every winning opinion

I wish I had one

Stand on platforms in water

Filling jars full of silence you'll get nowhere