All your problems they're like spit in the ocean
Sometimes I think about the things it taught me
Sometimes I wish I killed myself
Sometimes I think about the stairs they're waiting for you to elevate yourself
I had a dream that there was a war crime romanticized at a later time
I had a thought downfall was my first love that I ever knew and it fell apart
Followed the scheme of snow condensed footsteps behind the wall of a dying art