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well the sun's coming up |
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they day's just begun |
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and i'm off to school this morning with my backpack full of hope |
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that my mother gave me |
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she means to make me free of all my immaturity |
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they need to make a man out of me |
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and when i was a poor boy |
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my arm made a map |
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of all the choices that were written |
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and all the women that were lost |
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but now i lay in a coffin warmer than a fire |
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the sweat makes a memory of all my mistakes swallowed |
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and now i found me in a love |
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i can't seem to comprehend all the beauty i am capturing |
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and all the skin i have felt |
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and now my screen door stands open for all my friends to enter |
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but all i need is your pity |
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and you need not to worry |
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one, two, three, four |
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(everyone take a drink!) |
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well what's the point of writing |
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when it's just all analyzed |
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well yeah i hurt myself in my bathroom tonight |
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'cause that's what i want |
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an emptiness that burns |
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i am a selfish one, yes i am |
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i'm just a hypocrit that hurts |
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i need to get good grades |
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i need to make this record work |
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i need to have my friends love me |
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can you just all care for me? |
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i want to stop being so irrational |
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i wanna start being a poet |
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i wanna start being an artist |
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because me, i'm so useless |
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because the publishers aren't calling |
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my friends aren't begging to hear my thoughts and my worries |
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so i just hide in my covers all night |
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and sleep until the sun is coming |
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put my clothes on, tie my shoes |
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put my notebooks in my backpack |
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and get ready to fail |
