Still Fatalistic

Maybe it was too much punk. Maybe it was hating school. Could have been the loosing bets; right to think it was the bitter pills… Here I am far past the storm. No longer wishing I wasn't born. Head above water but not in the sky. From time to time I wonder why. I'm still fatalistic. Conspiratorial. Still Fatalistic, head turned backwards; hair over my eyes and throwing water against the tide. I'm fatalistic, I'm fatalistic, I'm fatalistic...