Lyrics

I feel so dumb So void of conviction Afraid of my symptoms I locked myself out There's nothing in this empty house To save me from my lingering doubt Your image in the very space I inherit now I tell myself that everything is going to be fine Yeah right We are the product of a broken class But, we weren't raised to be fucking morons I am the product of my fathers burden It wasn't promised to me So if you want to come and smoke on Friday I'll make a promise to maintain my distance I never wanted to retreat so quietly Let's smoke a cigarette