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c0ntrast - piled up words lyrics
verse 1
sitting here thinking about how i think too much
a million ideas crunched into one minute
it’s infinite, i’d talk more, but no one listens
carry one-sided conversations with an empty p-ssenger seat
and blabber in this heat while sweating hollow-tipped bullets
swallow this bullsh-t; vomit blood, sweat, and tears
and when i’m done, let my peers clean up the disgusting mess
tired of giving a f-ck about if it’ll make them trust me less
run these tests with a full system diagnostic
i’ve got to figure out what’s wrong no matter what the cost is
so i write another song but nothing really gets accomplished
everywhere i go i don’t belong and so i stay locked in
friends are worried i’ve lost it by the look in their eyes
i’m starting to doubt i ever had it, and so i stay disguised
as a somewhat sane person, but f-ck an edited version
the real me is erratic, distracted by madness, havoc, and static
verse 2
not enough words to fill these pages
i swear to god i’m just about out of patience
sick of complaining and tired of displaying
the fact my life’s not right to all of these cavemen
who gives a sh-t about your plight or anything that you’re saying?
aging like a bottle of fine milk, which, along with time, spills
so you can cry, chill, or do something about it
instead of wasting away every day in the house, kid
debating and contemplating the what, where, why, how, when
did it come down to this? on the verge of complete callousness
it appears savage gets its way most of the time
always cutting to the front, leaving hope last in line
there it goes, the balance finds i’m consistently off center
seratonin droughts drying out the brain keep me bitter
a five-day winter followed by one day of spring
meltdown, then i fall back to doing that same old thing
verse 3
super cynical, clinically depressed
excessively critical and so i stay stressed
the f-ck out, always asking, “what now?!”
coming with a sound that’s never dumbed down
this clever one shouts at the top of his lungs
hitting his head on every rung as he falls from the ladder
those at the bottom scatter, let his issues break his fall
he hits the ground face down, screams, “i wanna taste it all!
“from the asphalt to the blast-off, gimme the whole buffet”
they don’t know whether to laugh or offer help, so they just walk away
like, “why should i care what this lunatic has to say?”
product of his environment, could be one of your kids some day
he’s still sitting there with his face covered in blood
mumbling something about how the hate smothered the love
wondering why there’s not a letter to indicate “none of the above”
he scribbled out all of your answers and then out of nowhere he vanished
verse 4
i think i’m out of this world, i mean i’m alienated
i mean i can barely take it so let’s see how long i can fake it
well the prescriptions make it easy to write fiction on my face
but the piled up words i’ve written i should be spitting might make
living easier without so much b-tching
on a different floor but still can’t take the heat from the kitchen
i’ve been here before, matter of fact i never left
and the only way to get away from all of this is…
d-mn, that sh-t defines who i am
divides who i used to be into three
one: f-ck all of y’all for making life intolerable
two: no, mike, you piece of sh-t, f-ck you
(three:) we all got our problems; it’s high time we solve them
now obviously, one and two are equal to three
but most days those -ssh0l-s multiply exponentially
that’s alright though, because i’m gonna keep on striking back relentlessly
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