[Verse 1: milo] I bought a book of Rumi poems And on the back cover I wrote it all out About word of mouth I knew about now, how the time would pa** I'd seen glimpses of fine art portraits by the masters But this is an HD filming of disaster My heart shattered like a stained gla** mosaic That sold on a clearance rack Of an ugly store with a name like Mardens I beg your pardon It was like looking at a Youtube video of a sunset With a well functioning dialup connection It was trying so hard and still coming up short [Hook: milo] My God, I'm so nervous One of these persons lacks a purpose My God, I'm so nervous One of these persons lacks a purpose My God, I'm so nervous One of these persons lacks a purpose [Verse 2: milo] Leave me here, I'll save myself I'm the kind of person made for hell Let's dedicate this to Dave Chappelle How do you write songs in so little time? I spent my whole life working on this I spent my whole life My whole life is spent It's like eating Go-Gurt and cutting the sides of your mouth It's like driving one of those bicycles With the very large front wheel And very small back wheel And being oblivious to criticism It's like writing papers that are not in MLA format It's like laying yourself down as your lover's doormat It's like being the tambourinist in a quartet It's like singing hymnals and needing more breath I'm not sure of it, I'm guessing it's like being your father's surrogate My God, I'm so nervous One of these persons lacks a purpose My God, I'm so nervous To be a cog in the machine To be a stick of RAM To write songs that are simple To abandon vanity To withdraw from verbosity Which is in itself verbose To function like CPUs White people who become vegans for the wrong reasons It didn't make itself clear to me at the time It was for the best like "You better shave that mustache for Grandad's wake" The hand of fate, this hand is fake An astral projection I'm both object and subject Like driving for too long with bum sweat Perhaps before we once met we were the same person Then we named the same urges It's a disaster, bruh I do not know my own diaspora Like regimented dialysis Rap about the phallus tips The palace drips and I'm nervous still The palace drips and I'm nervous still The palace drips and I'm nervous still And I'm nervous still