I met an armchair doctor
Feet on an ottoman empire giving advice just like everyone
I must assume he thinks I’m pretty dumb
or deaf or destitute
My loot is better spent than saved,
My yard’s greener, wife’s dreamier
Cookie cutter, I’m a quitter
Or a winner? I can’t tell
Definitely going to hell
My ego must be kept in check
It’s about time I asked…
What are you on? What are you smoking?
How do you land on these conclusions?
Why can’t you see?
It’s a joke for a dream
What are you on?
Sat alone in a moldy basement
Listening to dad rock & pavement, adjacent
Post divorce, more golf course
Keeping score off the court is bad
Lose all the friends that you had
yes yes you can make those dollars
But that won’t buy no self-awareness
Wish they sold it in a can
But there’s no no no no chance
I think myself is someone else
Mental health, Totally shot
The ozone layer fully rocked
Red Bull giving me the twitches
a good time to get religious
Hope is a raisin bakin’ on the pavement
Priorities all out of wack (Shaq attack)
What are you smoking?