All my life my parents always told me to dream big.
As a kid I thought to China, I could dig.
But the critics in my head keep my dreams little.
Getting tired of these mental monsters making me feel belittled.
In my dream it seems like the pest knows whats best.
All their words and whispers make me wanna second guess.
To stressed and caught up in outsiders looks.
Feels like I embezzled the thoughts, of invisable crooks.
Thought I could beat kung foo when I grabbed the pebble.
But the monsters and the crooks made the whole idea disheveled.
They eroaded my motives of keeping the real me open.
I feel the claws of the monsters on the back of my neck strockin'.
Thinking to myself I'm the only victim they've choosen.
Letting the whispers and words get into my emotions.
If only I were deaf maybe I wouldnt be the one they've choosen.