Stuck inside my mind,
trying to find what it's worth.

I tore apart my heart,
just to see if it would hurt.

Analogies and metaphors never seem to help,
because the only one who doesn't understand them is myself.

I know you can SEE me, go ahead and take a look. I know that you can read me, I am an open book. That just so happens to get put back on the shelf. Never asked to get pushed, I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of destroying myself with my guns blazing and my lungs screaming. Ready to **** any demon that's facing me so I can, basically, make for me, a little place to be slightly above average. Everyone has baggage, but I have more than an airport and train station combined. That's why I'm make-shifting mine into something like music, that's obviously for you ears. If only you could hear half as well as you can SEE
No sweat. It's not like I expect to win this bet. But, I'm still playing my cards. Because once upon a time the moon and Mars along with the stars could have been ours. But scabs turn to scars after just a few bars. Depressed and broke I looked upstairs and spoke

"I have holes in my boxers and even more in my socks, sir. And this grey sky above is killing my sense of love. I'll put all my issues in these shoes, then on top of you. Just so I can prove the sky isn't blue, we've all been lied to."


Why do you keep running through my mind? Can we slow down and walk? Can we sit down and talk? Or are you, too, eager to become a believer?
"Maybe she's a deceiver come to steal away your leisure and keep it beneath her."

What if she's neither?

I prepared for the fight of my life. Until she held me and began to tell me...

"Tony, I'm more impressed by your tattoos than your battle wounds. Now lock away the sad in you, I came here just to rattle you and drag a smile out of you."

I replied "Hopes and tries with wide open eyes disguise the demise that hides behind the lies to the who's? The what's? The when, where's and why's."
But not the how's.
Those are in the clouds floating through your house, made of the cigarette smoke that falls out the love-hole you call a mouth. What the hell are these halls about? There's hardly any room for rooms. So it is safe to assume the broom can't go in the closet. That's my skeleton deposit, or whatever you call it.
Like I'm in a cage at a rave, I'm a rage-aholic. I love this book but find this page, appalling. I'm uncertain if I should turn it, or burn it. What if when I learn it I find the verdict disturbing?

Merely retreated, I have yet to be defeated. Maybe one day I will actually be able to slay the demons I keep at bay, like I do with all the ones that stand in my way. Face them, no fear. No one stands here, except me.

I am the ruler,
I am the king

I can outright out write any song you can sing. Pulling my pen out of my pocket, I'm unsheathing my sword because I've felt this feeling before.
Like your favorite guitar player reaching the cord that gets you every time like it snuck from behind.
I grabbed my book of rhymes and began to climb out my own grave, so I might be home late. Don't bother to wait up, I promise I'll save us.
Even though it burdens me like a thousand times of gravity,
there is not a place I'd rather be.
But, actually, I'm slightly sad to see that you're automatically having me ecstatically jumping out my seat. What this means, is my dreams are pushed out the slip stream and then it seems to have ripped seams like some chick's jeans.
I can't have that.
So how about you stand back? I'm going to need room to drop bombs...
BOOM
In this mind of mine that you can call a tomb, your face is barely seen like the moon at noon.
Your voice still haunt me, though I'll fix that soon.

Stuck inside my mind,
couldn't find what it's worth.

Tore apart my heart,
and it didn't even hurt.

Analogies and metaphors never seem to help,
because the only who doesn't understand them is myself.