Luxury Letdown

So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality hits
 Yeah, yeah
 (B-b-bounce)
 So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality hits
 I used to be optimistic that my life wouldn't fall to shit
 Now I'm pent up with all this rage
 Spotlight on my empathy
 It's centre stage
 So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality hits
 Life's a bitch
 And there's no prenup
 So suck it up and fuck the world right back
 40 stitch
 In my chest
 No hits
 Burn my money bitch
 Pay attention, right?
 Where's the lie?
 You know I don't know
 'Cause life's so fucking shit
 Taste it in my spit
 Break my fucking lungs
 And say it right
 Where's the lie
 You know I'll just fuckin'...
 Oh, you think I write for you?
 Oh, you think I write for you?
 Oh, you think I write for you?
 You must be deluded if you conceived
 I was thinking of
 Who do you want to see hurt?
 Choke on the worms in the dirt
 And the grave your career has left
 So, you've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality hits
 Swallow the bitterness
 All of my disbelief
 Brush your teeth with my seed
 My patience has finally run out
 So cut me up
 Take my skin as payment
 ♪
 My patience has finally run out
 My patience has finally run out
 Death before dishonour
 My patience has finally run out
 My patience has finally run out
 Death before dishonour
 So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality...
 So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard we (b-b-bounce)
 So
 You've got it figured out?
 You think you're happy now?
 You'll find how hard reality hits
 Something just feels so wrong in here
 I can't
 See through this (no, you are not yourself)
 The poison you exhume (no, you are someone else)
 Killed off all of the beauty (no, you are not yourself)
 That was planted here to bloom (no, you are someone else)
 My patience has finally run out
 So talk your shit
 I ain't got time for you, uh
 ♪
 40 stitch
 In my chest, no hits
 Burn my money, bitch
 Pay attention, right?
 Where's the lie?
 You know I don't know 'cause
 Life's so fucking shit
 Taste it in my spit
 Break my fucking lungs
 And say it right
 Where's the lie?
 You know I'll just fucking
 Stick it to 'em
 Fill these body bags with these punks
 So the plastic don't go to a waste
 Killed the game
 I arrived at the funeral just to
 Spit in its face
 To the dead bands with their dead trends
 Tryina make ends meet
 Without a label force-feeding rotten fruit from a dying tree