Young&Broke

Feeling like a fiend at nineteen I can no longer deny the infection its spreading quickly in every direction the answer to plenty of questions a big deception it makes my stomach turn knowing its something Ive been instilled to yearn its alive and well I'm not the only one under its spell it doesn't give a fuck if i choose to rebel it will still diminish my health until im six feet below the ground I'm looking for something more profound than dead presidents I acknowledge their presence I see them thrive turning plenty blind I wonder if I can survive without selling out thats when the doubt begins to sprout realizing I am  born to be a material slave until I'm laid in my grave possessing material objects that become too hard to reject a fucken cancer that provides me no answers clouds up my vision leads me to some questionable decisions young an broke yet I still managed to cope now I cant seem to comprehend why I cant transcend this feeling that has me fiending for something without any meaning deceiving my eyes, but not my heart this thought has me torn apart who do I follow sell out and swallow my pride a slave to the curren$y that will one day run me dry relinquish my mind its hard to tell knowing I'm naturally bound to walk down this trail a vanity slave its sad to say I can't seem to disengage probably why I seek the blank page I cant seem to find a reasonable solution to this confusion yet I have to manage and make ends meet until my heart ceases to beat