I Gotta Write To
I'm sure none of you will read the whole thing, but I needed to write it out. It makes me feel better.
I write to kill pain
suicidal cells in my brain
Is he an asshole, a genius, or is he insane?
I mean,
I guess it depends on whose askin
and whether mother nature is in the mood for multitaskin
Hackin away at the same today
They told me life is just a game, and so I came to play
It's survival of the fitful sleep
I grit my teeth
walking a thin line of compromised beliefs
Rise to meet the road
it's as open as a funnel is
Filled with medicated masses tolerating tunnel vision
"Isn't it monotonous?" she shrugged and said "Whatever."
From the same lips that told me that she'd love my ass forever.
It'll never be the same as those playground games
That's why some get movin
and some get made
Wings clipped when she sings with a tremble in her voice
Sinks ships with her pink lips
remembering the choice
I'll regret it if I said it
but it's better this way
If you love something then you better let it fly away
I said what I meant,
and I always meant well
For a hell bent spell spent in a bent hell
She said the words could never hurt me like the sticks and stones
From now on, I'm on a mission trying to prove that bitch wrong
I write to kill time
Tryin to occupy my mind
Got a 9 to 5 grind
so from 5 to 9
I'm tryin to find a rhyme
It's a lovely distraction
from the faceless social graces and the bitter interactions
Baskin in the bass line until the flows are soakin wet
The music makes me high like my box of old cassettes
Ain't looked in it for a minute
so I wiped off the dust
Throw it in the deck
and then I turn that shit up
Drive slow so I won't miss her when she gives me the eye
cuz life is just a bunch of wishful thinkin then you die
Like, "Why oh why am I here?
Oh yeah. And why's the sky blue?
Why am I being lied to?
Where do I go when I die?"
Too many questions
I'm addressing only those that I can answer
Let those other motherfuckers find a cure for cancer
I'm gonna wax intellectual over instrumentals
till they're scraping all the steak and bacon grease outta my ventricles
Don't wanna be a vegetable
I'll let you pull the plug
When I'm too old to rock and roll
or get the sex and the drugs
Let the others reminisce about the golden days
I'll write my own endings
till then I'll stay
where low humor and high art intersect
cuz your honey doesn't love me for my intellect
Yes, you've never seen an MC quite this ill
I write to fight
I write for life
I write to kill
I write to annihilate the audience
murder the masses
of pretentious bastards
slapdash cats
Cocky enough to tell you that I'm humble as fuck
another awe-struck, hard-luck, bum with a buck
Writing for a living wage
just enough to feed the habit
Hold the hunger to my heart
cuz every racer needs the rabbit
Trying to catch my creator with a butterfly net
Suicide bomber saved by the auto pilot
Another drunken intellectual
sunken inaffectual
Flexin with my inner child stuck in a correctional
facility
servant to civility
We're murdering survivors
fertile minds converted to fertilizer
My agnostic anthem
ego-tripping temper tantrum
Freezing the phantoms
holding reason for ransom
And keeping em dancing
in the same goddamn breath
this goes to motherfuckers wondering what's left.
--The amazing, the indescribable, the God, Casey Hayman
I write to kill pain
suicidal cells in my brain
Is he an asshole, a genius, or is he insane?
I mean,
I guess it depends on whose askin
and whether mother nature is in the mood for multitaskin
Hackin away at the same today
They told me life is just a game, and so I came to play
It's survival of the fitful sleep
I grit my teeth
walking a thin line of compromised beliefs
Rise to meet the road
it's as open as a funnel is
Filled with medicated masses tolerating tunnel vision
"Isn't it monotonous?" she shrugged and said "Whatever."
From the same lips that told me that she'd love my ass forever.
It'll never be the same as those playground games
That's why some get movin
and some get made
Wings clipped when she sings with a tremble in her voice
Sinks ships with her pink lips
remembering the choice
I'll regret it if I said it
but it's better this way
If you love something then you better let it fly away
I said what I meant,
and I always meant well
For a hell bent spell spent in a bent hell
She said the words could never hurt me like the sticks and stones
From now on, I'm on a mission trying to prove that bitch wrong
I write to kill time
Tryin to occupy my mind
Got a 9 to 5 grind
so from 5 to 9
I'm tryin to find a rhyme
It's a lovely distraction
from the faceless social graces and the bitter interactions
Baskin in the bass line until the flows are soakin wet
The music makes me high like my box of old cassettes
Ain't looked in it for a minute
so I wiped off the dust
Throw it in the deck
and then I turn that shit up
Drive slow so I won't miss her when she gives me the eye
cuz life is just a bunch of wishful thinkin then you die
Like, "Why oh why am I here?
Oh yeah. And why's the sky blue?
Why am I being lied to?
Where do I go when I die?"
Too many questions
I'm addressing only those that I can answer
Let those other motherfuckers find a cure for cancer
I'm gonna wax intellectual over instrumentals
till they're scraping all the steak and bacon grease outta my ventricles
Don't wanna be a vegetable
I'll let you pull the plug
When I'm too old to rock and roll
or get the sex and the drugs
Let the others reminisce about the golden days
I'll write my own endings
till then I'll stay
where low humor and high art intersect
cuz your honey doesn't love me for my intellect
Yes, you've never seen an MC quite this ill
I write to fight
I write for life
I write to kill
I write to annihilate the audience
murder the masses
of pretentious bastards
slapdash cats
Cocky enough to tell you that I'm humble as fuck
another awe-struck, hard-luck, bum with a buck
Writing for a living wage
just enough to feed the habit
Hold the hunger to my heart
cuz every racer needs the rabbit
Trying to catch my creator with a butterfly net
Suicide bomber saved by the auto pilot
Another drunken intellectual
sunken inaffectual
Flexin with my inner child stuck in a correctional
facility
servant to civility
We're murdering survivors
fertile minds converted to fertilizer
My agnostic anthem
ego-tripping temper tantrum
Freezing the phantoms
holding reason for ransom
And keeping em dancing
in the same goddamn breath
this goes to motherfuckers wondering what's left.
--The amazing, the indescribable, the God, Casey Hayman