Missing pieces, gaps in my memory got me running,
hell hounds hot on my heels, I’m not taking calls or happy pills.
I’ve had my fill of bad company, reached compacity.
No time to tip-toe around weak wills and fake dreams.
These days, hurt feelings seem to be all I leave behind me.
Tired of being labeled mean when I’m just being myself.
Maybe you’re just another fake thing…
So, hear me, hear me…. get your ego off of my shelf.
Bring me something real or get out of my way,
get a grip on your lower lip or jump ship today.
I’ve had all I can take and I’m a little busy,
waging war against these demons and their dumb dolls.
Post-it notes all over my walls, connected but a free-for-all.
One thing leading to another intertwining and twisting,
little red strings in between connecting everything.
Each representing an ounce of flesh taken from me.
Subtle reminders that we all fall victim to dark things.
My only job is to get up again and wrestle for my dreams, I’m contending.
Always knowing, in the end, it’ll be me left standing,
while the legions come apart at the seams.
The enemy won’t get the best of me.
The best are born to die and come back to life.
In spite of how hard you try to suffocate me
I’m still breathing.
