I've counted my breaths
My steps
Recounted the depths
And found that i am more vast
Than just concepts.
The tip of the ice burg is my facade
Making me a mirage
Youve decided to barrage
Me with too many insights
Of the skeletons youve concealed in your garage
Instead of the closet in which i hide
The "demons" i ride
Have Victoria's Secret eyes
Protecting my thoughts
Until the day i confide
In you.
The truth?
I've got damaged youth
Damaged goods
Thoughts produced misguided proof.
You got me feeling like Donnie Darko
People asking "whats that mark...oh"
Chopped up like American ******
Except theres no Patrick Bateman here.
The only Bateman
Is this bait, man, here
At the end of this rod
I got ******* hooked
Like I'm reelin em in.