Prove

I can’t take coincidences as nothing Feels like I always have to prove something I am not the one to leave things be F***ing up everything that comes to me No one sees that I could be something useful I’m picked up and used just like a social tool I rarely want to be left alone When it’s so I get so f***ing stoned I’ll wear my skin til the bones show through But I can’t expect that from youse Who ever would ever know anyway? To give a s*** but none to play I can tell myself that I have nothing to prove There's a sensical reliant truth If I pushed my eyes into my skull Then everyone would still say I’m dull I’ll wear my skin til the bones show through But I can’t expect that from youse The cuts and knives are a faker's way It's natural to rot this way