I think of going underground
But I’m not even mainstream.
I think I wanna change my sound
But I write poetry, not music.
Ostentatious maybe, but I’m openly a criminal now in 64 countries.
They want me underground.
It’s exactly why I, an introvert, wanna go to the club.
Long locked away from life, need for air, tryna feel super hot.
I think of going underground
Down below where only my people go
Go silent but not taking vows
I wanna get high and drunk and feel the love.
Make it tangible and feel it fill me up.
Always live up and never be downed.
I think of deleting my social media more than I thought I would when I had fame.
Devote my time to reading tarot and cast aside the pain of the figurative athame.
The fame, the fame, the looks, when they look it feels like I’m some way of famous.
Infamous, the word, venomous, the world, but I know now I’m not the one that’s blasphemous.
I think of going underground.
Just get lost in the crowd.
Blend in with the boring people though I really can’t think of how.
Flamboyant soul like a peacock but I don’t want the clout.
The peace I have I prayed for
And I want more achievements ‘fore I’m in the ground.
Anxiety’s on my scent like a hound
But I’m not bound to the anchor pulling me way way down.
Leave this town and I’ll see for myself the things and places that keep me out of that hole.
Being this bad feels surprisingly good like the vibrations in my body when the song’s beat drops.
You must hate me either cause I’m fine year-round or cause you’re down for the count.
I wanna go underground.
Yup, **** it, I wanna get out.