Poster boy of postmodern depression

Never got the answers only asking the questions

Which begs the question, what is success

Is it a few hundred fans on the internet

Is it looking in the mirror without disrespect

Is it finding love instead of infatuation

Is it making the best of a bad situation

Is it facing the music and putting words to the beats that you're making

It's work, it works, work hurts

But it don't mean nothing to me

I got nothing to lose, I got nothing to give

Thoughts running through my head, but it's nothing but weed

And that is some shitty rap I made up in like 20 minutes with no second thought. I am really a fucking low-life. Y'all have fun trying to think of this as art.