Bitter Cynic

 
I think I’m emotionally constipated
Some days I just don’t give a shit
Lately I’ve been constantly irritated
I just want to burn it all and call it quits

And yet nothing seems to formulate
I feel like I’ve been stuck in a rut
There’s a thick fog I can’t subjugate
Or maybe I just don’t give a fuck

I don’t want to become bitter cynic
Maybe it’s the midlife crisis I read about
I’m pondering on death to be specific
As if it lurks near ready take me out

And yet if I have to go it’ll be with a bang
I’ll hang up the gloves and fight bare fists
If the reaper wants me first I’ll harangue
Box the motherfucker till I break my wrists

Whatever it is or whenever it comes
I’ve seen it before so I know I’ll see it again
I’ll bite the bullet no matter which gun
No matter which way I’ll fight till the end