Du yT u

Yo, I think I've gotten better,
but this sickness' not a bacteeria
its inside my interior, fixated on exteriors, for fear of a perfect world.
See, I see myself inferior and so I must deprive superiors from having the upper zone.
I must confess that my illness is one of fiction, my mind's own creation
I've been brainwashed to dwell on certain things and get over them in slow motion.
I don't know who I am, and what I plan on doing
I don't know what to do, and who I plan to do it with
Life's a mystery constantly for me, my future wife's gonna see me as a lost, sad little boy.
Man do I enjoy, the feeling of listening to myself type away these words.
Every word releasing its own soul out into the world
Cause life takes a toll on everyone, Life makes a bore of everything