PuKe King - Still Not A Painter [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro]
Ha, yeah yeah, a-ha
It's PuKe King, what what?
Ha, it's PuKe King
Right I'll stop fucking about

[Verse]
In my mind there's this room where all the walls are painted white
All the corners painted blue and that's where I rest at night
I walk throughout the day, dragging colour right beside me
Painting with my sleeve, a bloody mess I leave
Never looking where I'm painting, never looking where I'm going
Always reading what I wrote on the walls I've been before and
It's boring, I get lost often conscious of my conscience
I watch my watch whenever it is tocking
A narcissist who's heart is just a stick to hit the rail with
A martyr with the hammer offering to hit the nail in
I'm aimless, hopeless, failing, a joke? yes
A punchline who's fucked life is sublime, I'm loathing
Reflections, my inflection, my complexion, my neurosis
Defensive when questioned about friendships and hopes this
Isn't how I pictured painting would ever make me feel though
I figured that this fiction would never become real hope
The paint is still wet, my sleeve is getting murky
Blurring what my heart felt, making it feel dirty
Fuck thirty, wanna find the door 'fore I'm twenty six
Playing Steam games while my steam train vents, uh
Killing hoards in Killing Floor, I don't play the villian more
I tend towards the heroes when I'm Steaming through a village or
A basement, binding keys, finding keys, Binding Isaac
Killing Peep with my pee, shooting tears with my eyelids
Sick is such an understatement, Sick is such a loser
Winning's such an effort and I never been sure-er
That they'll laugh at all my mistakes
Demotivated, pass the buck while I just waste

[Outro]
Still not a painter, ha!