On My Way Out
Bloom
I can barely hear the screams
'Cause the screens, they control me
I'm a narcissist fit, and inherited rich
I'm a sneaky little son of a bitch
But I can tell you how I feel
Don't necessarily mean it's real
I've got no more appeal to steal
I'm on my way out
The fancy things and the shiny scenes
Don't do anything for me
Get on your knees and cry, type and whine
Poisoned reassurance for your fragile mind
Well, she's got a Molotov cocktail temperament coming at me
And I don't care about anything else
I'm on my way out
