Type 1

I'm that spun of a gun, primed blast son of a gun and it's not even loaded

Never liked math, but wasn't dumb. Just the unsolved problem I must have become

Bipolar, what you know about that? When mics ta hold up, it's out of my control

But trust your gut, yeah right, better doubt that

One day I take aim at unknown once. That same day I take aim ta brain and wanna go

Buck right out back, mood swings hit harder than primed Mike Tyson fist

On a rollercoaster every minute of every day. Can I get off this ride right quick

One day circadian rhythm is in alignment. That same day all feelings diminished

I feel quite lifeless, manic facade. Depressive faults, one minute over expressive