Manufactured Fear

I work so fucking much that I can't feel my soul anymore
I make so little money that the basic things in life I can't afford
I've had so many loves but never been in love
I never had any luck and when push came to shove
Oh, we would always fall apart

So I'm sorry if I come across as being bitter
And I'm sorry if it seems like I take myself too seriously
I'm sorry if I don't convey my sense of humor
I'm contradicting myself in my own apology

I might drink too much every once in awhile
Maybe two or three times a week
The weeks seem to pass by two at a time
And I never move from my seat
I graduated with a degree that I can't usе
Even if I could, I wouldn't wanna
I tell evеryone I wanna be a teacher
And I swear to myself that I'm gonna
I set time constraints on myself that I can't meet
I swear the ground is glued to my fucking feet

And every day I scream
Shoot me in the fucking head if I'm not on my way in six weeks
Shoot me in the fucking head if I'm still working here
Shoot me in the fucking head if my future still seems so bleak
Shoot me in the fucking head by the end of the year
Oh maybe I'm just giving into my own manufactured fear
I gotta get the fuck out of here