Sleep in, call out, we go to class but not to pass, Wake up to make up lines that etch their words to every seam, You see the thing your missing is, I'm so strung out, I'm so god damn addicted, that I panic to get these words out Swing the mic around, you'll feel me in the crowd Oh my god let's make a point to tear this place down You can't help, we can't help, we can't help, But get caught up in this madhouse I've stayed up half a year to compose every breathe and every line, I'm just killing time to tell a story of sleeping rare nights, Moonlit street fights, locked in my bedroom with prescriptions To musicians that no doctor recommends I'll die before I try to live a life That's the slightest bit different