Road Rash

We've got issues, we've got problems. A laundry list of insecurities. We've been emotional, self-promotional, fell victim to this social disease. But there' s no cure, only bottled time. And you just can't pop the top. It's broken up and bearing down, out of control. Hoping and praying to forget about you. I know it's gonna be hard, but what am I to do? I've made some big mistakes and in turn, I've made some giant leaps of faith. Left with nothing but road rash on my hands,and a bruise upon my face. I was told by older souls it would be a piece of cake, but they're all fried and petrified, left frozen at the stake. You, horrible you. You, terrible you. You, pitiful you.