I'm fed up with living in mediocre shadows
with unflattering light surrounding me
with Stargirls flocking around me making me intoxicated
because her perfection almost makes me sick with envy
but I can't bring myself to hate innocence
but I can somehow manage to hate myself

And it's like everything is easy when you don't try
but whatever you want, you never receive
unless your in a fairytale with a Cinderella ending
but then again Elphaba is always going to have to melt isn't she
because someone always has to be green with envy
Call me Wicked for my thoughts, but emerald isn't my best shade

Most days I feel like a virgin in a stripper joint, down on the east side of the city
Just surrounded by people looking for a good way to fuck you over
and is it so bad that my eyes haven't smiled for a few months
and is it so bad that I can't bring myself out of this rut of insecure imperfection
But I'm ready to have a Vesuvius title worthy explosion
Ten to One the lava that's killing Pompei, is the salt water thats drowning me slower and slower

My real question to ponder is protagonist and antagonist, what is what
I am my own protagonist yet I'm the evil in the other bed time nightmares
So what happens to the story when you are now the antagonist
I suppose the sooner I accept and move on someone else can save the girl
the charming prince with bull frog lips who is the hero of this common tale
But maybe protagonism is actually just doing the right thing

Karmas not real anyway, with every self destruction nerve hitting my body
and each good deed I do never really had a currency did it?
and my build up time is starting to topple and cities will crumble
but it's closerclosercloser and I can feel is rupturing
and I have a weird feeling that I won't wake tomorrow since my eyes never really will close
and now my break down lane is merging with my life and all I can do is

pray.I.can.fucking.hang.on