I can't wait to let my life adorn my skin in blood and ink.
They tell me to think about it, to wait until I'm older.
They think that I'll regret it when I'm older and my muscles fail.
But at the rate I'm going I won't make it that far.
And that makes me smile.

I'm trying to open up to you.
I don't do this often.
And I'm not saying you have to like what you see.
Hell most of time I don't like what I see.
But some reaction would be nice.
Because when I try to talk to you my tongue is tied in knots.

You ask me to tell you about myself.
And honestly I would like to share myself with you.
As long as you share yourself with me too.
But I wonder how much of me you'll want to see when you realize.
I'm not all light underneath.