can't you just be happy for a minute? - yr poetry lyrics

so we hit that bong with sorrow, maybe tomorrow will be the day i leave the house
i don’t mean to spoil yr session
my concession to those tomorrows running out
sometimes, it just hits you
and in those bleached bleak weeks that follow, the smoke we swallow under plastic ceiling stars
writingthisisalli’vegottotryandblockthesadandkeepthestressin, call it confession but it’s the only cut that scars