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letra de still not a painter - puke king

[intro]
ha, yeah yeah, a-ha
it’s puke king, what what?
ha, it’s puke king
right i’ll stop f-cking 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 bl–dy 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 f-cked 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
f-ck thirty, wanna find the door ‘fore i’m twenty six
playing steam games while my steam train vents, uh
k!lling h–rds in k!lling floor, i don’t play the villian more
i tend towards the heroes when i’m steaming through a village or
a bas-m-nt, binding keys, finding keys, binding isaac
k!lling 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, p-ss the buck while i just waste

[outro]
still not a painter, ha!

- puke king

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