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Cut, cut, cut, cutting myself down to pieces |
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Too hard on myself it would seem |
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That everyone could see my self-worth but me |
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I'll take a stand devise plans |
|
Figure it out |
|
I'll take my cuts and stitch them up |
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With sutures of pure cement and |
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And I've realized |
|
There's no right way to go |
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So what if |
|
I'm a sinner |
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I've got black spots on my liver |
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And cancer grown on both my lungs |
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We take everything we know |
|
About ourselves and put them in |
|
A diary in a firing |
|
Scrutiny blown on me now |
|
I think I'm ready to go |
|
Back, back, back, back to the crooner in question |
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I sure hope you all like my songs |
|
Well maybe |
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I put too much talk in my rhymes |
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And melodies so stunning brainwashing minds |
|
From day one |
|
I took pride in my |
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Pure and honest intentions |
|
And I've realized |
|
There's no right way to go |
|
So what if |
|
I'm a sinner |
|
I've got black spots on my liver |
|
And cancer grown on both my lungs |
|
We take everything we know |
|
About ourselves and put them in |
|
A diary in a firing |
|
Scrutiny blown on me now |
|
I think I'm ready to go |
|
And I've realized |
|
That I don't wanna be judged no more |
|
And I've realized |
|
There's no right way to go |
|
So what if |
|
I'm a sinner |
|
I've got black spots on my liver |
|
And cancer grown on both my lungs |
|
We take everything we know |
|
About ourselves and put them in |
|
A diary in a firing |
|
Scrutiny blown on me now |
|
I think I'm ready to go... |
|
I think I'm ready to go! |
