Things Will Get Worse

I'm in terrible shape
Indenting a twin size mattress we both knows seen better days
Drifting off in space
I slept in my clothes, I have no self control
I can barely recognize my own face
And you say that you don't get it
Well you probably never will
Your pedantic grabs at compassion
Come up shorter ever still...
And I hope that things will get worse
And I hope I beat you into the dirt
Take all my money and all of my clothes
But leave my guitars
I'll play em when I'm a ghost
Well you saw me again
And you ask what I'm thinking
I'm back on the meds
And I've been doing less drinking
I know it's good for my health
But why can't I fetishize destroying myself?
Another New Years resolution
Failed by January 5th
Another batch of half baked excuses
Cmon man get a grip
Oh cmon man get a grip
And I hope that things will get worse
And I hope I beat you into the dirt
Take all my money and all of my clothes
But leave my guitars
I'll play em when I'm a ghost