Callum Ball by Michael Epps
Honey get your jackboots, push me to the ground
waitin’ in the afterglow, something that I used to know.
More or less the same thing, ornaments are breaking
Do you feel how I feel? Crush me with your cuban heels.
Burdened by tradition, and traditions must go on.
happy but it’s not enough, happy to be sleeping rough.
Every positive thing, that pops up, no matter how small. There’s always something I’ve done already to write it off. It’s starting to get to me.
Constant self resentment. Not loathing, resentment.