Back to Me.
Selfish. I grew into a man, with both my parents in prison.
So naturally I've lived a life of constant struggle, no wisdom.
It feels like I'm writing for freedom, because its hell inside my head.
If there's a blood that you can bleed, for every pain, it's been bled.
I think I'd be better off dead,
at least eight days in the week.
So I'll go through another pad of paper,
so you can feel what I speak.
Some people grow up in hell,
without a cent to their name.
Even they could never see me at the bottom, deranged.
My life's been blown up,
refused to grow up, lost my reason for living.
You'd think that would be the final straw,
instead I started ascending.
Morality, an issue conquered easy by talk,
and much more difficult by action.
Society pins you as either ultra sensitive,
or of some crazy faction.
And my life is full of distraction, even if for only a fraction.
But up until this point, I just haven't felt, any real satisfaction.
I thought that life was to be handed to me,
upon a silver platter.
I learned that talk is cheap, and that is true,
cause' all that I had was chatter.
But now I'm done with the talking,
It's time that I did the walking.
The rich don't start out rich, they switch,
they find success and start stalking!
Truth be told, I was destined for greatness,
that's why I have failed to this point.
When the going got to going, I just rolled me up another joint.
But a new king you'll anoint,
I will conquer this kingdom they call depression.
I’ll do when I can finally find myself again,
When I finally stop second guessing.