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What If


What if I knew responsibility when it slapped me in the face?

I bet that would have changed everything,

and I wouldn't be such a disgrace.


What if I knew a thing or two, about this so called life?

I bet that would have changed everything,

And I wouldn't be dying inside.


What if I was destined for failure? Set up, tragically always to succumb.

Like God has a vendetta,

Wait a minute, that thought's just dumb.


Ten lessons learned, two loves I've lost.

I've paid the price, I've paid the cost!

Ten million times a second chance,

but I follow the devil at night when I dance.

What if I only knew back then,

what I regrettably have learned now?

I bet this would read much different,

and I wouldn't be crying,

wow!


What if I wasn't looking fastball, when life threw me a curve.

A million mistakes could have been averted.

I would not have had the nerve.


God doesn't want me to die,

he wants me to suffer.

But every time I'm faced with failure, I learn my lesson, and grow tougher.


If its united we stand, than its divided we fall.

That explains why turbulence surrounds, as I begin my free fall.

I feel like I'm being held down,

marks on my wrists and I don't need em'.

I guess these marks are left by chains, the kinds that take away freedom.

And I was wearing them again,

even though I said that I wouldn't.

But then again, that's precisely what you get,

when you do something you shouldn't!


I try to talk to God,

but all I hear is deafening silence.

I beg, I plead, I get no response,

just pushes me further into defiance.


I really try to form an alliance,

because I've got good in my heart.

But my head spins around in circles,

I just don't know where to start.


And when it can't get any worse,

I hear a voice - "Joe ,stop all of that crying!"

I put you here to be a leader, king of the jungle, a lion!"

So there is no more denying,

no second guessing or debating.

Living the life that I was living, was so fucking frustrating!

I found it agitating!

So a new life I have created.

Call this the new me,

Joe 3.0, - version not faded.


I've got a good way with words,

call it a gift, and a curse.

Cause' I can’t form a fucking sentence,

until things can’t get any worse.

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