Still Not A Painter

[Intro] Ha, yeah yeah, a-ha It's PuKe King, what what? Ha, it's PuKe King Right I'll stop fucking about [Verse] In my mind there's this room where all the walls are painted white All the corners painted blue and that's where I rest at night I walk throughout the day, dragging colour right beside me Painting with my sleeve, a bloody mess I leave Never looking where I'm painting, never looking where I'm going Always reading what I wrote on the walls I've been before and It's boring, I get lost often conscious of my conscience I watch my watch whenever it is tocking A narcissist who's heart is just a stick to hit the rail with A martyr with the hammer offering to hit the nail in I'm aimless, hopeless, failing, a joke? yes A punchline who's fucked life is sublime, I'm loathing Reflections, my inflection, my complexion, my neurosis Defensive when questioned about friendships and hopes this Isn't how I pictured painting would ever make me feel though I figured that this fiction would never become real hope The paint is still wet, my sleeve is getting murky Blurring what my heart felt, making it feel dirty Fuck thirty, wanna find the door 'fore I'm twenty six Playing Steam games while my steam train vents, uh Killing hoards in Killing Floor, I don't play the villian more I tend towards the heroes when I'm Steaming through a village or A basement, binding keys, finding keys, Binding Isaac Killing Peep with my pee, shooting tears with my eyelids Sick is such an understatement, Sick is such a loser Winning's such an effort and I never been sure-er That they'll laugh at all my mistakes Demotivated, pass the buck while I just waste [Outro] Still not a painter, ha!