Flip Ditcher by K. Jay (me)
PARENTAL ADVISORY
EXPLICIT CONTENT
Feel like I’m trapped in a dog cage.
I’m tryna escape but
I can’t with these goddamn chains on my legs.
Something’s eating at me.
It’s making me go insane.
I’ve lost my brain,
That is if I ever had one anyway.
I don’t even know all of my ABCs.
All I know is S, U, C, K, M, Y, and D.
Can’t even count to three
With the only exception being
How many more minutes I can stand
Without throwin’ my ex in the sea.
Sometimes I even forget how to breathe.
Now that I think about it, that’s probably not from me
But all of this freaking weed.
I’m only joking, I don’t do drugs
But I do hide my hentai drawings
Underneath my bedroom rug
People tell me I’ve got talent
And that I’m wasting skill
Writings bars like
“I’ve taken’ so many painkillers
That I don’t know how to feel.”
What’s even real anymore?
The only thing that I know for sure
Is everyone’s mother is a fuckin’ whore.
I don’t get bullied but if I ever do
I’ll tie a noose with the laces of their shoes
And hang them in front of their parents too.
Take everything I say at the truth.
Allow me to poison the feeble minds of our innocent youth.
I’ve been feeling stressed for a few months now.
Maybe it’ll take the edge off
If I go to ShadBase and rub one out.
I need to get out more. Maybe get a date.
Maybe I should loosen up
And find a new lesbian to rape.
Last time I went out was to Walmart
And the only reason I did was
To steal all of the shopping carts
Just so I can roll ‘em down the tallest mountain I know.
I’ll have people place bets on which’ll first get outta the snow.
You may think I’m some crazed maniac.
But the truth is there’s a little more to it than that.
I’m crazy because of the way my maker treated himself.
He decides that to show his love for others
He needs to put himself through Hell.
I was created by a kid who couldn’t stay still
And made mountains out of insignificant mole hills.
He uses me as a way to let out his pain
Which is always aimed at back him,
Like the gun that shot Kurt Cobain.
He makes me say these crazed things
As a way to get away
From his frustrations that he himself probably made.
There’s a method to my madness.
It’s all controlled.
It’s used as a way to get all of the stress out of his skull.
I’m extra for a reason.
It’s a mechanism to cope
And make himself seem really cool and dope.
He turned to music in his time of need
He made songs for fun and then created me.
Although I do say these fucking weird things
I want God to know I’m grateful.
I don’t go to church
But I’m still somewhat faithful.
I say a prayer ev’ry night and I’m hopeful
That my creator can still be happy on his lonesome.
Even though I’m just a voice, I have a soul
Which longs for my maker to feel whole.
That’s why I’m like this.
Nothing less or more.
As long as my makers happy
I’ve done all I’ve wanted to live for.
