I've Got Some Bad Ideas and a Terrible Hill to Die on

How could I exist like this? Get out of my head and on your knees For another way to worship Don’t wait on me, I haven't conquered anything yet My times a soldier with a leaking social battery but I've got more danger in the clip than in Chernobyl And a terrible hill to die on If this is how duty calls, Than I don't wanna be noble I wanna be something you can't live without Oh, but I’m just a scribble in a page of your autobiography But I know I’d be the whole damn table of contents But if I already saw the 3-D movie Why would I care what the book is about? How could you exist like this? Am I something you can't live without? If our friendship was the town, I’d be flood and you’d be the devastating drought You're like the people with split personalities Each one takes a position on the jury Where they point the finger at anyone but themselves And wait for an apology My restless mind syndrome Keeps calling and stalling for the toxins to invade I only hear what I wanna hear Were my ears produced? They seem homemade A lone wolf in sheep's clothing But it takes two to tango with blame And I know who you'd have your arms around When the shame sets in and i’m reduced to a short line from your autobiography But you're my whole acknowledgments page You left me waiting for a fleeting answer for years Is it a hard truth we refuse to hear or is it building suspense? Does it overcome you with repentance or paralyze your mouth with fear? The question isn't how did I exist without it It's how did I exist with it at all? I might be the final nail hit in your coffin but you’re just an unpublished table of contents Every groove in my brain likes to move forward at the quickest rate While you’re waving to me, fading away in retrograde But it’s too destructive and counter productive And it lead me right back to the same hill I chose not to die on I should've known from the way you saw right through me That this reliance was just a con And I hate to spoil the ending But this sixth sense tells me I’ve been seen through the whole time and you’re just pretending A lone wolf in sheep's clothing with the bite of a great white You’re a drooling dog with desperate eyes I shouldn’t pet A house engulfed in flames that I haven’t retreated from yet Everything I ever created rests inside But I can’t be a hero in my own story and not end up alive And to be crystal clear, This is something I can live without But the question isn’t whether I can or cannot, It’s will I fight to keep it alive or will I let it degrade into an afterthought?