Some lines oh why did I write I have to repeat them night after night Yes you can tell me I control my life but I feel humbled and I feel obliged I miss not caring if what I make is good And I miss the unproductive bullshit I love And I miss my friends even more And I get scared we aren’t friends anymore
Congrats to me for coming so far Me rushing round Britain with a guitar making love to myself How could I call it anything else? I ruminate on the cognitive space where all contemplation is going it waste Revolve through a cycle a figure of eight I think about thinking about me I know I am trying too hard Always publicly trying too hard I want to be cool and effortless But every little thing is so much effort I wonder what you think The royal you The chosen few I wonder how I cause these stinks To act natural is to be vulnerable
And so what’s the real goal Is it just to be worshiped As a way to like myself. Well I won’t think I deserve it. What i posit as a cure It becomes evidence thereof Of my fakery and flaws And as the layers are torn off And i return to my own space With time alone inside my head I’m still faced with who I am And all i keep unsaid
What are you gonna do What are you trying to do What are your goals Are you goal oriented?
So what’s the real goal With any influence comes cowardess The power projected on me In the end makes me feel powerless I’m paranoid, and yet perpetually interacting With realms to build persona despite how it’s impacting My ego and my friendships and my mental health I hope I can transcend it but it’s my whole sense of self So what the real is it to touch people with experiences which I’ve weaves into fiction To share my thoughts and beliefs of which I hold no real conviction Become constructive contradiction so that you can learn from me from the safety of my pedestals built from fallacies I know I’m the fickle fucker I know I am the selfish lover I know I sad and undeserving I know am privileged and I am also hurting
I keep being told the importance of self love Some days I think I don’t hate myself enough
And if you relate does that make you bad? And for making you relate does that make me bad? And do I glorify what it is to be sad? Should you just turn off?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
