Eat it.
(P.S. Jayne, this has nothing to do with you, it's something else that you got me started thinking about...)
i know who i am.
Thank God, for being ugly and lonely, it gives you the sore eyes to stare God in the face.
Smile, so it's harder to have them snicker at your destruction.
Sing, so something you make is sweet.
How else could they get by with knowledge of what cannot be one's own and cannot be known?
i found the "lost" title pretty easily, but who can find my "found"? How am i not myself? HOW AM I NOT MYSELF?
Everyone's uncomfortable in their skin, but doesn't it usually stop after adolescence?
It's a shame to yearn to be known (and loved) and to hide in a shell you didn't make for yourself.
A prison you know is maximum insecurity and you cannot be free from the girders that bind you inside your own reality.
There is no escape.
And i hear the echoing refugees. i know their song.
They sing with me. There is no escape. There is no escape.
i hate performing. Any confidence is fake.
You don't love me, you love my sketches of warmth and wit and wisdom.
You love me because i love you.
You love me because you don't have to be me and seeing me makes you feel better about being yourself.
You love me because i'm brain food.
You've never loved me.
No, no one's ever really loved me.
If i could love myself, it'd be just lovely.
i know who i am.
Thank God, for being ugly and lonely, it gives you the sore eyes to stare God in the face.
Smile, so it's harder to have them snicker at your destruction.
Sing, so something you make is sweet.
How else could they get by with knowledge of what cannot be one's own and cannot be known?
i found the "lost" title pretty easily, but who can find my "found"? How am i not myself? HOW AM I NOT MYSELF?
Everyone's uncomfortable in their skin, but doesn't it usually stop after adolescence?
It's a shame to yearn to be known (and loved) and to hide in a shell you didn't make for yourself.
A prison you know is maximum insecurity and you cannot be free from the girders that bind you inside your own reality.
There is no escape.
And i hear the echoing refugees. i know their song.
They sing with me. There is no escape. There is no escape.
i hate performing. Any confidence is fake.
You don't love me, you love my sketches of warmth and wit and wisdom.
You love me because i love you.
You love me because you don't have to be me and seeing me makes you feel better about being yourself.
You love me because i'm brain food.
You've never loved me.
No, no one's ever really loved me.
If i could love myself, it'd be just lovely.