I struggle in most of my songs
About how deep to get
But before I can make up my mind
I'm at the bottom of the deep end out of breath
I'm tired all the time
I'm cutting my own line

Writers block has building blocks
And built these walls around me
I don't feel lucky in here
Buried in my head
I'm seeing red and nothing else
I feel

Mad all the time
Mad all the time
Mad all the time
Mad all the time

I'm afraid of heights
But I'm done with this place
So I want to go up
Until we run out of space
I feel like I expired in Houston last year
Watching my friends finish college
While I'm all alone out here
I'm tired all the time
I'm cutting my own line

My sneezing fits
Will never let me focus
My brains and my hands
Entirely both know this
I feel most safe in my bedroom
Climbing the walls of my headroom
So keep out of my room because
I think I've seen enough of you today