Here's a crayon. Draw it.

Where is it
That we draw the line?
It depends on our morals
And our mood at the time.
So how do we define
The things we think are fine?
I guess that's the question
On all of our minds.

I've done bad things.
But I won't change my ways.
It would be too hard.
It would take many days
And questions it would raise.
I promise to amaze,
Because you would gasp at the thought
Of all the games that we play.

I think I'm done
Complaining 'bout life
How I don't know what I'm doing.
How i won't find a wife.
How there is so much strife
When her words cut like a knife.
I guess I'll just learn to cope
With my fucked up life.