OK, yeah, I bit the apple. Nobody forced these fangs into this situation.

But I'm try to get this fucked station, back to the point of fluctuation

Perpetual degradation seems to be the expectation

and I'm churlishly casting condemnation because of creelers on my patience

I cried for help and you were sleeping

I pried the shelf down that you were heaping

all the bullshit on, while it continued seeping 

into every fiber that you were complacently keeping

(a short adlib about how you'd rather be sleeping)