I guess, all things considered, we should be worried about Drake. He's lost, he's lonely in room full of money and girls and so blurred out that he can't see anything. He's smiling through the pain, but barely, and then we get this:
Three solid minutes of total self-hurt and apathy.
I can tell, I can tell, I can tell certain people don’t like me no more
New shit don’t excite me no more
Guess they don’t really make ‘em like me no more
Uh, you can look me in my eyes and see I aint myself
Cause if ya what I created than I hate myself
But still, let them girls in,
And tell em all leave their cell phones on the table where we see ‘em
I’m all day with it man, AM to the PM
Drake can't even trust the light-skinned model girls that they let in during "Fancy". If, on "Marvin's Room", he was just calling because the girls were just leaving, here he doesn't even trust the phones. He's living in his own personal "The Wire" of fame.
And then our beloved The Weeknd took it a step further
Taking the chorus from "I'm on one" to "I popped one", The Weeknd's take on "Trust Issues" is an addled, drug-damaged and damn-right scary love song, with a creepy child-like female Greek chorus answering all questions with "I do, I do, I do". It's very possible that all parties involved just need a little sleep and everything will be better, but it's equally possible that, in this bleak Candian landscape (now apparently referred to as OVOXO), everything is just broken. If that's the case, I'll gladly watch them walk on glass to keep these beautiful, painful sounds coming.