🪩 | Crash Season

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser Midnights become my afternoons When my depression works the graveyard shift All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room I should not be left to my own devices They come with prices and vices I end up in crisis (tale as old as time) I wake up screaming from dreaming One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'Cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time) It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me At tea time, everybody agrees I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero