This one came from looking
This one opened twice
These two seem as smooth as silk, flush against my eyes
This one needed stitches and
This one came from rings
This one isn't even there, but I feel it more because you don't care
Yeah, Cut right into me.
Yeah, because I am Made Of Scars.
Yes I am made of scars.
Perhaps it's the way I perceive myself that stifles my future, or perhaps the way I perceive myself is what others see. I have no reason to think that I'm not as flawed as I think. No reason at all. If I had something, a central, reoccurring theme in my life that ran as constant as a stream, which could be a lifeline, an anchor to ground me to another wise empty life. I don't.
This one had it coming
This one found a vein
This one was an accident, but never gave me pain
This one was my fathers and
This one you can't see
This one had me scared to death,
But I guess I should be glad I'm not dead!!
Yeah, Cut right into me. Yeah, because I am made of scars.
Yes, I am made of scars, yeah.
Everything I've pursued as turned up empty also, leaving me reeling from all those questions of perception, self-pity and worth. Questions I really shouldn't be asking but that are always stuck in the forefront of my mind from day to day. The very fact that I'm writing this blog shows a tendency on my part to over think, analyze and the constant need for answers. Answers that may or may not exist.
God, Don't you believe the hype
God, Don't you believe the hype
God, Don't you believe it
And I will find a way
Everything you are I will betray
Oooh, I swear that I will find a way
Everything you are is inside me
This one was the first one
This one had a vice
This one here I like to rub on dark and stormy nights
This one was the last one,
I don't remember how
But I remember blood and rain
AND I NEVER SAW IT COMING AGAIN
I fixate on life's little moments, moments that mean very little or nothing at all, those fleeting moments that enter our daily life like passing some one on the street and that someone says hi or on a train and a passer by asks if that seats taken. I pull it a part, dissect all possible combinations of meaning and soon I find myself analyzing combinations of combinations. All I know is I'm searching for something. I think I know what, but it almost sounds stupid to say out loud...
Yeah, Cut right into me
Yeah, because I am made of scars
So I won't. Why would I want to attract more attention to my crazy ramblings?
Yes, I am made of scars,
Yes, I am made of scars,
Yes, I am made of scars,
Perhaps I'll never find it, perhaps it's gone or just maybe it didn't exist in the first place.
That's what I'm made of!
*Song lyrics from Stone Sour - Made of Scars
This one opened twice
These two seem as smooth as silk, flush against my eyes
This one needed stitches and
This one came from rings
This one isn't even there, but I feel it more because you don't care
Yeah, Cut right into me.
Yeah, because I am Made Of Scars.
Yes I am made of scars.
Perhaps it's the way I perceive myself that stifles my future, or perhaps the way I perceive myself is what others see. I have no reason to think that I'm not as flawed as I think. No reason at all. If I had something, a central, reoccurring theme in my life that ran as constant as a stream, which could be a lifeline, an anchor to ground me to another wise empty life. I don't.
This one had it coming
This one found a vein
This one was an accident, but never gave me pain
This one was my fathers and
This one you can't see
This one had me scared to death,
But I guess I should be glad I'm not dead!!
Yeah, Cut right into me. Yeah, because I am made of scars.
Yes, I am made of scars, yeah.
Everything I've pursued as turned up empty also, leaving me reeling from all those questions of perception, self-pity and worth. Questions I really shouldn't be asking but that are always stuck in the forefront of my mind from day to day. The very fact that I'm writing this blog shows a tendency on my part to over think, analyze and the constant need for answers. Answers that may or may not exist.
God, Don't you believe the hype
God, Don't you believe the hype
God, Don't you believe it
And I will find a way
Everything you are I will betray
Oooh, I swear that I will find a way
Everything you are is inside me
This one was the first one
This one had a vice
This one here I like to rub on dark and stormy nights
This one was the last one,
I don't remember how
But I remember blood and rain
AND I NEVER SAW IT COMING AGAIN
I fixate on life's little moments, moments that mean very little or nothing at all, those fleeting moments that enter our daily life like passing some one on the street and that someone says hi or on a train and a passer by asks if that seats taken. I pull it a part, dissect all possible combinations of meaning and soon I find myself analyzing combinations of combinations. All I know is I'm searching for something. I think I know what, but it almost sounds stupid to say out loud...
Yeah, Cut right into me
Yeah, because I am made of scars
So I won't. Why would I want to attract more attention to my crazy ramblings?
Yes, I am made of scars,
Yes, I am made of scars,
Yes, I am made of scars,
Perhaps I'll never find it, perhaps it's gone or just maybe it didn't exist in the first place.
That's what I'm made of!
*Song lyrics from Stone Sour - Made of Scars