[Spoken Intro, dry close-mic, awkward] Uh — yeah. Okay. Back row again. Chin's already going. If you're the guy with the clicker... just... give me a second. [Verse 1, spoken-rap, rambling, dry close-mic] So there's stone steps outside and that brown brick that makes every campus look important And some dude in a blazer with a lanyard is selling me a ladder like he already climbed it for me And I'm nodding. I'm doing the respectful nod. The one that says "wow, residence life sounds incredible" while my brain is buffering on a white screen Last night the kitchen was two radios on different stations Dad's like clock-in, cash by Friday, spine up, quit scrolling Mom's like don't waste what we built, neighbors' kids already know their majors And I'm sitting there like... cool... love that for everybody in this house except the person you're both looking at I don't hate college. I don't hate work. I hate that every adult in a ten-foot radius already picked which one makes me real And I'm seventeen in a folding chair pretending the PowerPoint is a personality test [Pre-Chorus, half-sung, tightening] They keep yelling pick a lane I'm still learning how to stand A hundred plans with my name on 'em None of them fit my hands [Chorus, raspy belted post-grunge, instant slam] I go to school, but I got no motivation I gotta move, but I got no destination Wake up, show up, same old station Empty tank, no revelation I go to school, but I got no motivation Somebody point me at the confrontation [Verse 2, spoken-rap, faster, neurotic] FAFSA's open on the laptop like it caught me doing something Little asterisks everywhere, like even the form knows I'm not ready And my group chat's just acceptance screenshots with confetti I'm refreshing the same blank tab like courage is gonna load if I wait long enough Dad wants iron in my spine by Friday — specific day, love that energy Mom wants the version of me that makes small talk at graduation parties without looking trapped I could take the shift tomorrow. Vest on. Cash folded in my jeans. Simple. Or I sign the debt and disappear into a course catalog of maybes where every brochure kid is laughing on a quad I don't recognize Either hallway ends with somebody winning the debate And I'm still outside both doors doing that thing where you act busy so nobody asks you the question [Pre-Chorus, half-sung, tightening] They say aim at something ugly Bad aim still beats the fog I nod like I caught the gospel But a nod ain't getting me up [Chorus, raspy belted, explosive] I go to school, but I got no motivation I gotta choose, but I got no foundation Wake up, show up, same old station Empty tank, no revelation I go to school, but I got no motivation Somebody point me at the confrontation [Bridge, spoken then building into yell] Okay — real talk for a second, no brochure voice Measure me against the kid I was last fall Not the clean kid with the early offer taped on the fridge like a trophy fish Write a broken plan. A dumb one. A wrong one. Run it till it splits, patch the crack, take the hit, take the hit One cleared corner of my bedroom. Shoes laced before the sun makes excuses for me. Parents should've been sterner — or quieter — pick one, seriously, pick one I don't need the perfect ladder with my name engraved on the third rung I need one ugly step that finally feels like mine And if motivation ghosted me? Fine. I'll borrow desperation and call it a ride. [Final Chorus, belted, gang vocals, throaty] I go to school, but I got no motivation I gotta move — call it desperation Wake up, show up, detonation Less talk, more scar, transformation I go to school, but I got no motivation Watch me move through the confrontation [Outro, spoken, half-time, soft then firm] No motivation (no destination) Still taking the step though No motivation (no revelation) Fog don't get me next ...alright. I'm up. (no motivation)
