March of Futility

Thought I'd be bold but I can't get a foothold In this game of life and death Constant afflictions clash with my addictions And I don't have time to take a breath Day x of y, don't question why I wanna restart instead of doing my part To fix what I've broke, and I'm choking on smoke From burning rubber on my face All through this year I've been facing a fear That if I tried to stop, I know I could So many days later, again I become a traitor Carrying my chains of wood Another scary cycle, another bland recital Anyone would say my methods are strange I guess I must be crazy or maybe I'm just lazy And I've never tried to make a change Day x of y, I'm pretty sure I Won't be content until the day that I die Because I keep screwing up, keep on filling my cup With the ashes pouring off my face