feelings look at my textbook rhymes like a real texture, I got guns knives knucks now that's a trifecta, dont try to step me boy we know i got a bad temper, my anger is always there like small ember, the fire dies down when shred on my custom fender, i constantly hate myself on the daily, is it the drugs and the life i live? maybe, hippie dave is just a mask i wear so people dont see me mainly, only my real people can see it on my face plainly, there is a war in my head between addiction and depression, its two demons trying to use my insecurities as weapons, i cracking up in this state of possession, god can you relieve me of my transgressions, hate my sef in the daylight, hate my self in the night life, hate my self but it's alright, it's alright, its alright, smoke a bowl get real high.