Dead Now To Live Forever

I want to suck forever, least then I knew I wrote truth. The realest shit ain't worth paying any attention to. Fame is all on accident. I don't know nothing about it, but I know truth isn't hard to come by. What's true isn't yours, you exist along it. All you can ever do is profit from when you were friends with it. Living dreams mean lies, ego and a whole bunch of fantasised problems that never die. Sit in the muck and feel like shit. Truth is, you be right next to it. So what's the difference, a horse a horse. Struggle is never gonna end. All you can be is captured, by a grand crowd who can't know you, can only confuse you, putting the very question before you: who the fuck am I to deserve this? Wish I would go back to when I felt worthless. At least that rang true, wait, flash, how about you: the person you are now--ain't gone nowhere, especially out of them trash shoes. You're fantasising you know, but hey, you got the trick fixed. Can only ever look back and realise I knew--whether I change or not, because I have no intentions. With no move to make, all there is is what's not fake. This will live forever. Just too bad no eyes will witness. If they do, I bet you too are worthless.