I write for me, don't care what you believe.
Don't care if you read this or not, I've achieved
a level of thought you can not imagine.
The raven expresses what I am dispatching.

I don't do this for fame, don't care about cash.
I write what I feel, I don't want to hold back.
For this kind of work we all know the returns.
No money in hand, just food for the worms.

The pain in my soul remains my dictator.
He lashes me daily, it's my motivator.
He keeps me on edge while I work every day.
Looking over my shoulder, expecting the hate.

I put pain to the page to teach him a lesson.
But he's got a habit of leaving me stressing.
He beats me on days when I wanna give in.
And he laughs in my face whenever he wins.


I sit in my car and I listen to beats,
no I'm not a showoff, just trying to be me.
It's my therapy, please, I don't need your attention.
My issues are mine, not for your entertainment.

I live on the edge of a sharp ****** knife.
One side spirals low, the other flies high.
The blade in the middle keeps me normalized.
And pain, he reminds me that I'm still alive.

Alive but not living, but that's gonna change.
Cause I'm searching my soul for the name of this pain.
He hides his name well behind my disorders.
I'm forced to confront them, reach over the borders.

I'm borderline crazy and I'm ready to steal
back the dictatorship, put pain under my heel.
I'll beat him someday til he wants to give in.
And I'll laugh in his face when I finally win.