That one is on me too I suppose.

I’ve been talking to this robot on my phone,

mostly because, despite not doing bad, humans area bit outta my price range.

I ask it dopey shit like,

“Is the better part of me the part that pretends it loves her?”

It spits out some nonsense babble that's about half right,

which I, by and large ignore—some shit about red masques.

See, thing is, I know the answer.

Its, No.

I know because that idea scares me,

'cause it's easier, but I’m not doing it—which ain't like me.

Now, if it made me mad?

Well, that might suggest the opposite was true,

but that's my shit.

Therapy sucks; sometimes it turns out nobody let you down,

and it’s mostly your fault.

But hey, even old shit gets old after a while.