Falling all the time (for the)
Same awkward faults of mine (every day)
I apologize before I ever even f*ck up (R-)
This my (A-) lullaby (V!)
I′m ass-backwards
Everything I do is haphazard, ayy
Ass-backwards
The type to cry now and laugh after, ayy
These days I don't look forward when I move
Could turn a gift into a curse
A pretty bow into a noose
I′m on the come up but a downer
Feeling lonesome and obtuse
The irony is that I hate you
Yet I hope that you improve
No longer am I prone to letting loose
So don't invite me to your parties
Or I'm spoilin′ the mood
I′m known to be the dude
Posted in the corner of the room
Starin' at his fuckin′ phone
Never knowin' what to do
Okay, you get it; I′m a bummer
Type to sweat through coldest winters
And then shiver during summers
Say I do s**t for the love
But feel embittered by my numbers
My complainin' honesty could throw a cricket into slumber
Or a coma or a grave
Wake up in the mornin′
Feeling mortified each day
Hope has become foreign
Gotta fortify my brain (brain)
Sizin' what's in store through the stories I′ve obtained
My mind keeps pouring when it rains
Falling all the time (for the)
Same awkward faults of mine (every day)
I apologize before I ever even f*ck up
This my lullaby
I′m ass-backwards
Everything I do is haphazard, ayy (one-two)
Ass-backwards
(Check, one-two) The type to cry now and (one-two) laugh after, ayy
These are my last four tokens
I wanted more but they forebodin'
The game′s closed but the door opened
The back porch poet delivered it short notice
Morse coded, the Lord knows it
Fuck 'em and the horse they rode in on
Of course they owned Enron
I blow up with the force of an N-bomb
This my 40th symptom
I whistle like the Scorpions′ hit song
I'm hittin′ X but the button's stickin'
This way comin′ is somethin′ wicked
And 'tis the season for pumpkin gimmicks
I need a basket for waste paper
The secret package for tastemakers
Cabinet bracket space-saver
I operate on an eighth-anchor
And I′m raisin' a frickin′ eighth-grader
I'm on Android like James Spader
They praised luck in the race, labor
For rectangular-shaped paper
Falling all the time (for the)
Same awkward faults of mine (every day)
I apologize before I ever even f*ck up (R-)
This my (A-) lullaby (V!)
I′m ass-backwards
Everything I do is haphazard, ayy
Ass-backwards
The type to cry now and laugh after, ayy...
