When I was younger I was gifted
I was gonna go far
But now I'm thirty and I'm bitter
Reading The Bell Jar
Well excuse me, Ms. Plath
Spare a second for me?
How'd you write how I feel so vividly?
I guess that's the funny thing about history
A person that never could've pictured me
Wrote down my thoughts down so perfectly
One cold Massachusetts night in '63
I wonder why everything comes in cycles like spring and fall
Like when's next manic high so I don't climb up the wall
Which Dr. King quotes will make me want to stand tall
When I get back in bed and ask why I wondered at all
Nice to meet you, Dr. King, when will I be like you?
Never felt the holy spirit so will rage and spite do?
They've fueled my life since I was twenty-two
Take it or leave it
I won't change not even for you
This probably makes no sense to you but I see thirty years
Of the warm, fake smiles and alienating my peers
Perfect white veneers that crack when it sets in
That my wit is never tested but my patience sure is
I know what you're thinking
Probably shouldn't say this
And you're right but I shouldn't've had those last eight drinks
So I'll pop off at the mouth until I get kicked out
Of every gin joint in the country and you have no doubt
That I'm an arrogant bastard with a chip on my shoulder
Because I said I'd never rent
One day I'd be the owner
But most days I'm just trying to own my composure
Cuz it's only getting worse as I get older
I learned to early on the American way
It chewed me up
Spit me out
Left me on display
And I know I should wrap this up in some inspiring way
But I'm sorry
I'm just too tired today