my father used to play the guitar and my mother got tricked into delivering drugs to the u.s.a
im confused from who im destined to be, i doubt I'll inherit anything
so far both of my parents think im weird
i guess its the way i sit in my backyard, and paint the sky with hand motions,  
i guess its the way i lock myself in my room because company distracts me
i guess its the way they conceive my actions as,
i guess its because i never tell them where i go when im out for 3-5 hours on my bike              
i guess its because i like to spend all night awake just to have alone time
its funny how my parents haven't noticed i do such things, to make them proud
are my paintings a little too colorful for your vision?
is my form of writing a little too misunderstanding?
or are you just not as open minded to things
i look back at both of your pasts and feel misery
hoping your child will make you happy
mother, father, you've created a regretful blessing
mother, father, you've created a so called scumbag artist who only cares in pleasing people and his cannabis strands
mother, father, your son is sick of being called crazy at home
mother, father, your son can't tell both of you anything without being judged
mother, father protect me from the kids at school who call me weird, the wound is deep enough