I'm out of my range I'm out of my waistband I'm holding my brain and salting with the other hand Like a slug in the sand inside out with swiss cheese licorice and pickles I'm scared to be sane I flail in the quicksand Direct all my blame at loved ones and colleagues who cares I'm a little off sometimes I'm a shitshow constantly Hold my phone as I scour this brain alone I'll come back with answers The gems were in me already Scared to be heard I'm scared to get noticed Although I've been groomed since the womb I'm shaking in my boots I don't wanna get booed A woman is polite and pleasant and broken I'm out of my way I'm lucky or brain dead Oh what can I say when everything's going to plan When's it gonna get bad holding my breath so the mold spores don't get in Hold my phone as I scour this brain alone I'll come back with answers The gems were in me already Hold my phone as I scour this brain alone I'll come back with all of it sorted You don't have to worry anymore anymore