The Old Soul

my stomach has a spy in it, i can feel it. he’s working hard to outwit the current regime. he’s trying hard to defeat the American dream. he’s synonymous with the angry teen, you know the kind with growing pains and all the shades of green.

he begs to be fed black label and cigarettes, chocolate cake and steep debts.


fast forward a year-point-five: the spy’s gotten old and fat with a stitch in his side any time he tries to run, but it’s quite alright ‘cause his mission’s been completed

the old soul’s been broken and sucked out.
the old soul’s been broken and stretched out.
the old soul’s been broken

my stomach has a spy in it, i can feel it. he’s got nothing left to keep him lean. i’m crossing my fingers that he’s about to pass, i’m hedging my bets that his time has come at last. he’s kept me empty for quite some time now, like worms feeding, feeding on every tasty treat i try to eat. every last bite i long to eat.

fast forward a year-point-five: the spy’s gotten old and fat with a stitch in his side any time he tries to run, but it’s quite alright ‘cause his mission’s been completed

the old soul’s been broken and sucked out.
the old soul’s been broken and stretched out.
the old soul’s been broken