buster_hymen

Another night wasted, guarding this cave that I call a room
Hoping this pen will do right by my nom de plum
Impulsive scribbling usually equals awful tunes
But I hope to be timeless, like words scrawled on tombs
From fall to June, I used to conform to conformity
Marching towards death like soldiers in Normandy
A by-product of a system that was broke from the jump
Hoping for months my life was more than joking with punks
When I dig through my writings, Im looking for a higher purpose
Thats why Im nervous, my sweats in these wired circuits
So when the powers shut off, and the vans loaded up
And chicks who aint old enough have drugs slipped in their soda cups
You can catch me sitting on the fire escape scaffolding
My feet dangling, trying to drown out my demons cackling
Flashbacking to my idols saying stick to your dreams
But I left my self-respect in a back-alley in New Orleans
Writing these words went from a hobby to a form of therapy
Now I use music to connect with warmer memories
Failing convinced me to swallow my incentive
And roam this land of milk and honey as a lactose intolerant diabetic
Ive regretted actions, but none of my intentions
Forever quick witted, I rely on my tongue for protection
An old defense mechanism that I refuse to modernize
You can tell Im a relic by the rust in my hollow eyes

I know I wrote this, but It's kinda scary sometimes to see how I can translate my feelings with words