Mess at Best

Sweat burning in my eyes I guess that it's no surprise from walking on the sun I'm gonna dust my broom and run But I'm a mess at best And it's always such a rage A test for the blessed living in the static age I'm a fanatical radical who slipped down through the cracks they want me to bite the dust but I'm already on my back Their words are like bullets Like drunk crashing gods how can I see through it and beat these odds