Maybe one day people will learn how to talk,
genuine feelings rolling off their tongues.
But I don’t see it happening, for awhile,
so I’ll sit quiet with my superficial smile.
So until they learn how to talk,
They can all fuck off.
And that’s okay,
because I like myself anyway,
until they learn how to talk.
If every word is pseudo to your soul,
don’t you know that things in life will fall?
And I keep looking back for change, every once in awhile,
and I regret it every single day, just kidding I’m a regretless-file.
And if every single word you say is fake, does it make it worth while?
Because apparently it’s pulling teeth to have a genuine-style.
And I’ve been changing all my ways, for awhile.
And these people don’t know how to change, oh-well for this life’s trial.