I am someone else's Cyrano,
Without the big nose and elegant flows.
I am a wall riddled with prose.
That convicts play ball with,
and crows shit all over this myth
of true love and happiness.
I'm on the edge and talking people to their bliss.
That my zone clicks in
when my zone isn't even on the line.
But I'm firing away, giving faith to the blind,
Faith that this click of people that I'm with,
Will witness me
Murder the murder that's shitting on me and,
Murder the burden of being constantly free.
The blind have a blessing of ignorant bliss
Of being a person who doesn't see as it is,
Doesn't see this shit coming from a mile away.
I am NOT proud to say that I'm better at helping then finding
this array of pathways to this mythological beast,
Of burdenous pain called "true love and happiness"
with a fiery mane of passion, bliss and blame.
You can see me walking...
With a face full of shame
Cause I am a runner, and I'm running this race.
But there isn't a winner.
Or even a pace,
or even a path.
But there's this ceiling made of glass,
and if my career is Happiness and I'm running there,
and believe me, I'm running fast.
Cause I'm panicked and slipping on the edge of my life,
But the edge stretches on, a vast nothingness of strife.
Where am I going with this...
I am Helium reversed, too positive on the outside,
And too negative on the inside.
I guess I have an identity crisis.
I am who I'm not and I'm not who I am.
I am only me, but I don't know how to Be.
When existence is hard, to whom do you flee?
Anyone with an angelic chip on their shoulder,
would tell me God in Heaven will remove this boulder.
But Him and I dont talk much anymore,
ever since He took my mom,
and left me alone to fester in that ever present home,
with constant reminders of the times before.
Why should I go to (h)im if (h)e started this war with life that I'm in?
I'll take my chances with Mercury's Shoes,
And run for the life that I wish I could choose