Infatuated - Travis Thompson

It’s the season of the peasant, sneaking into Heaven

Creeping with my heathens, we do thievery in sevens

Got my demons on my guest list, Jesus on my necklace

I’ve been steaming on the roof, it smell like seasonal depression

Why the preacher need a lesson, I ain’t never listen

I was in-and-out, indifference -- trying to find a pot to piss in

'Cause the one my Pops provided ain’t have the proper glisten

And it’s something 'bout the easy targets make me wanna lick 'em

I’m a problem child, draped in my Ecko polo and poppin' mad

Twistin' weed up, watching World Star beheadings, and clappin' loud

Off it round, a simple-minded, broke, and hopeless -- pray they pass

Kids like me, we find a bitch in ourselves and we fade they ass

Way, way back

Apple pipes with aim and flames and papers packed

Sippin' on my Maker’s Mark and trends incentives fade to black

They catch a glimpse of the moment you lose your sense of self

So if I go, you ain’t see shit

And, if I run, don’t send for help

I guess I’m still

Infatuated with death (death is nothing at all)

It’s safe to say that it’s never safe in my head

I’m infatuated with death (I only slip away into the next room)

I know I shouldn’t, but it feels so good

Infatuated with yes (nothing has happened)

Let it prowl for a while 'til it all fall down

Infatuated with stress (everything remains exactly)

I’m infatuated with death

Yeah, ayy

At my service, told the pastor, «post an open casket»

Throw it up on Craigslist, make it open to the masses

I’ve been grinning with my cracked lips

Lying through my baby teeth

Project my future for some momma

Too many -- hit play, repeat

A legend on the boulevard

Grew up with a gully squad

Kids who know exactly where they older brother’s bullets are

I musta been like 9 or something

'Round the school we heard the news

Curiosity got 'em, the last we ever heard from you

That’s fucked up, ain’t it?

Now they «lunch-rush» famous

Now they fake-tell moments for kids who don’t know better

No, I don’t hold vendettas against the reaper -- we chill

My daddy pump-fake that motherfucker, then make us a meal

So, that’s just regular shit

No time to wrestle with this

My family pull up like, «where the drinks and the settlements is?»

I see the men I’m surrounded by, I’m no better than them

Like, why I want these bitches to like me at every event

When I got wifey at home

Something not right in my dome

I’m insecure and new pussy just be enticing alone

I came to grips with myself, and then I lost peace where it mattered

I’m too concerned with the ending, how they’ll remember me after

I’ll be forever

Infatuated with death (death is nothing at all)

It’s safe to say that it’s never safe in my head

I’m infatuated with death (I only slip away into the next room)

I know I shouldn’t, but it feels so good

Infatuated, we’re yes (nothing has happened)

Let it prowl for a while 'til it all fall down

Infatuated with stress (everything remains exactly)

I’m infatuated with death

Yeah, ayy

All is well

Nothing is hurt, nothing is lost

One brief moment and all will be as it was before

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting

When we meet again