When I go out each day, Despite what I might say, There's an immense rage-- A mental cage-- That just won't go away.
I keep it all inside, Where I wish that I could hide. 'Cause without that net, There'd be much regret, And so much more homicide.
There's poison in the masses' veins. There's torment waiting to be aimed. And I see it in their eyes. And while I wish that I could maim-- To reciprocate their ****** blame-- I guess I'm just not that sort of guy.
The sort of guy who gives a ****, 'Bout all those who they torment, it... It's not something I'm proud to say, But I'm gonna say it anyway: I feel it when I go out each day.
I see them cry; I see them hurt, And, sure, I go on high-alert-- I WISH that I could care for them-- But then I remember a time back when... When I hurt the same and they... They'd do what I do... When I go out each day.
Now ask yourself: *Am I that way...?
I feel like we're all (most of us, at least) shackled by our own histories of pain and suffering, and those shackles are simultaneously a lens that skews how we see the world. I don't condone the above behavior (that's not to say it's entirely untrue of me, personally, just that I'm working to change it), and I can only hope that maybe presenting it in such an ugly way will help to awaken some inner truths for others. I don't want to cast blame, I just want to see some more happiness and unity in the world.