Feeling Fine

Calling a toast and brimming and boasting items you picked off the dead

Somberly reverent when it's evident cameras are trained on your head

Scratching the itches from the stitches

From the fake accident

I don't believe you i never did you always struck me as a fed

I'm gonna saunter down the mountain

As the flames lick the pine

And the mansion on the hill is smoldering in permanent fire

Burn my past life in effigy

Gather up what is left of me

And saunter down the mountain as the flames lick the pine