At the bottom of every glass
There is a little more clarity
Apparently this is still how I think
Looking through the dregs to find what stinks
As I sink in the doubts my pet storm cloud is shitting on my scalp
Destructive dandruff
I ain’t got it rough
But rough is relative
For real I tried
For real I died
For real I murdered my shadow
I drowned every week
So why I neck deep in suds?
Last year was my bud
Last year was my drug