What an empty place

Even with hundreds inhabiting 

Shared possessions 

Of the same illusory face
Like farm animals

They graze on greed

In the American maze

Amazed at the low prices
Who am I to judge though

Living at my mom’s home

Working here

Smoking weed and drinkin cheap beer

Into my happy lil haze
We’re all lost and scared

Paying high costs to be content

Never prepared

For the hollow holocausts

Stupid paper consents
Others just seem a little better

Situated with the shit

Hidden in designer clothes

Plastic smiles and doll laughs

Money to buy gas

Houses with comfy couches

To sit their fat asses
Alls I got 

Is ashes in a pipe

Pipe schemes and pot dreams

Every hit

To forget
New Years

New rock bottoms

Every year

Every fear 

Every beer

Every tear 

Every day

Every false fucking way