So futile.

First I’m too hot, then I’m too cold

First I’m too young, then I’m too old

Nothing turns out the way that it should

Nothing becomes the way it should seem

Reality never manifests from a dream

Until it’s too late

Everything is at stake

You kill for a break

Yet the needle won’t take

It solely skips the skin

Of that old vinyl track

You wear on your back

And they’ll burry it with you

As you carry it with you

To your unmarked grave.