We All Go to Heaven

I see great gray buildings growing like weeds in my backyard
My grandpa said these things take time but boy ain't that hard
My friends all ask me why do you do this to yourself
I can't seem to get a hold on anything before it lets me down
Don't want to end up getting tired of trying to make the best with what I have
My brain can't hold any more good thoughts what it's told I've been meaning to erase it