When I'm not making music I feel fake as hell;
But still I do this to escape myself;
And get lost in it, how can I feel like I'm trying to find;
A sign that my life's not just a waste of my health;
When I'm here because I failed to jump;
The saddest part of this all is that I'm not making it up;
My whole life's another tale of betrayal and lust;
Where everybody that we love's slowly fading to dust;
So I can barely face the morning sunlight;
Like work was a war with a morbid frontline;
Maybe I'm at peace with my boredom sometimes,
Or maybe I'm afraid to get up and touch life;
I don't do it cause I love my home;
I do it cause I can't leave my comfort zone,
I've got fears and hesitations, and can't clear my head of the taste
Of my memories and failures;
I've got a few bones to pick with god or the devil, or
Whoever is responsible for letting me be present, here;
And let me make it perfectly clear;
It's life itself, not hell or heaven that I fear;
I've got angels singing in my ears;
I've got a life full of struggles but time to clear my head;
And I hope I never forget;
All the wisdom in the things that they've said;
I've got music playing in my ears;
I've got an artists soul but a childs fears,
I've got lessons learnt at my best and worst,
And I'm just waiting for the skies to clear;
I treat my beats like they're bad news,
Cause there's no hiding from it, or the tidings they bring;
That's why I see my ink stains like tattoos,
Cause when you break it down I'm really writing on my skin;
I think I'm looking for an avenue to raise a complaint
With whatever big cheese about the pace of the day,
Cause I really saw my youth like a playful parade,
So who the hell was on these city roofs making it rain;
And who can I blame, for the state of my brain,
Or the way we sit apart when we're taking the train;
I don't know if it's art, or it's fate;
Or if I should point the finger at the mirror when I'm shaving today;
Cause at heart, I'm just a confused boy;
With feelings under wrap like protecting a new toy;
And while I find it hard to breathe through that packaging,
I aint gonna leave cause I'm scared of these mannequins;
We're all running around trying to act like we get it,
When we don't, even know where we're headed,
And if I did, I might have something worth telling,
Though the likelihood is someone already said it,
But I've got angels singing in my ears;
I've got a life full of struggles but time to clear my head;
And I hope I never forget;
All the wisdom in the things that they've said;
I've got music playing in my ears;
I've got an artists soul but a childs fears,
I've got lessons learnt at my best and worst,
And I'm just waiting for the skies to clear;