Loser - Repetitive Thoughts Lyrics

Just let me be gone
You can see the blood dripping down my wrist on to my f*cking palms
In the lawn
But proceeding calm
Might blow up like a bomb
But it's okay
I don't have no shame

Maybe just a little bit
The loser took another hit
Then fell into a f*cking ditch
His eyes all red like devil shit
It's 666 on the telephone ring out
I don't give a f*ck about what you thinking, I'm a demon bro

Please take me away
I don't wanna be another slave
Heres the chains and my name
All the same
Take em to the grave witchu
When you start to rot hope they dissolve within your tissue
If I die, get my brain and use it for some issues
I got my knife, so boy get back before I come and get you
Chilling at the bottom
But gon' come up like a missile
I'm a issue
I was misused
It's real simple
Popped the pimple
Put the gun up to my temple, but don't shoot it
My life been a movie, I ain't talking bout a few clips
Making so much music, but it's feeling f*cking useless
I've been really going through it, plus I'm looking hella clueless
Same old shit, man, it's just a different day
Everywhere I go, everybody look the same
Questioning reality, like is this shit really fake
I don't f*cking know man you should just go away

Coming back urgent
My bitch understands that I'm f*cking up her cervix
Yeah we got a plan it don't gotta be perfect
Nodding in a Mazda Rati coupe, bitch I'm swerving
Off the drugs, bitch I feel my body curving
Mind my own business, so I really haven't heard it
Just a bunch of bird shit
And I'm on my first sit
But I'm on my third hit
And I got my wrist slit
Thinking that I do deserve it

Now leave me alone
Let me go home
Back to the hell where I f*cking belong
It won't be long
Till I come back with the key to the underworld
Satan is gone
I'm the new devil, I always do wrong,
That's why the demons crown me to the throne
I take out my phone
To record my bitch while she takes off her thong, yeah

Rip me apart
Take out my heart and then stab it with darts
Do it all at the park
I am the dark-ness, standing right next to the park bench

Open my chest hoe
I'm hoping you let go
Don't feel sentimental
I carry some metal
And I'm feeling vengeful
I'm crunchy like pretzels
But Glocks in my lunchbox, I'm signing your death note
I'm the new devil, I always do wrong, that's why the demons crown me with the throne