Self

Michael Bradshaw

I just want my own car, my own clothes
My own bed, my own rest
My own debt
My own head, my own stress
I just want my own chase, my own space with no trace
My own cake, and eat it in my own cage
My own time, my own line
My own pen, my own paper outside
My own trust, my own lie
I just want my own thought
My opinion, bad decision
My flaws, I don't want your's
My own complex, my own context
Convex mind caved, confess, with no strings left
My own emotion, over flowing
Closed or open, tongue like a trigger
Holding back loaded plosives
My own name, my own brain
My own pain, my own DNA
I just want my own self but self is an illusion
I am just everyone around me in a fucking fusion
Everyone is so flawed
Even your idols behind closed doors
Be cautious in the footprints you follow
Pick and choose the lessons and the bullshit you borrow
Take the good from a given individual
Be careful of residual left overs and pitiful
Pettiness that comes from people
And their selfish remedies which result in evil
Possessing them like an entity
Feeding on your soul, trying to fuck up your empathy
Transforms you into an enemy
Lusting over envy, pride, boiling endlessly
Watch your mind shrink, your heart break
Your pride fake, the rest will fade away
Your expiration date is coming
If you can't locate the self
Watch out because you will become somebody else
I've always been a bright bubble
Standing behind a body
Seeing before eyeballs
My ego's a fucking copy
I can't help it when this ID is out to stop me
Super ego sitting on my head, tries to shock me
All these hands are destined to do is dig dirt
Scribble a shit verse 'til my wrists hurt
'cause we're all speckles and dust, freckles and fucks
Constellations and crumbs, echos from cunts
Deep depression, we don't have a reason
Crossing off the calendar, it's suicide season
70 percent of time sleeping
Nightmares about waking up in the night, screaming
My thinking and my instinct are too different
My impulses and ideology don't mix in
What prince with one brain can think twice
On a white sphere in space, spikes on thin ice

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A música “Self” de Michelangelo foi composta por Michael Bradshaw.

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