Paint

We can't go back and change all the mistakes
Yeah, all that we made
All of those pictures we make with our pain
With our bones as the frames and our blood as the paint
We step back, contemplate, and then look for new ways through these mental exchanges…
Do you try to make changes or leave it alone?
Do we hang it on the wall, or just light it on fire and get lost in the flames?
We don't know
'Til we know
Do we trust in the process?
Or let it all go?
(Why'd you let it all go?)
We don't know
'Til we know
Do we speak out our conscience…
With every stroke?
One shot to the liver, one shot to the head
Just how it goes for me instead
Some call it pain, some call it art
Guess it really matters through what kind of lens
That we lookin through, from beginning to end
Trying to figure that out since I was a kid
There's no mistakes though, once you start…
Just a shit ton of happy little accidents
If I'm being honest I don't really buy into the bullshit
That we really know shit, where to begin..
Doesn't really change the fact that there's still a bunch of dope shit, ways of coping that'll thicken your skin
Now for me, "when dreams may come", I wake up, get it down, sketch it out, tip of the pen
Ain't nobody "Robin" me of satisfaction of painting a masterpiece of us, one day, happy again
Mama I love you
Even though I can't really show you no more
Pops I owe you
For showing me how to be a man and I really hope you don't feel pain no more
We don't know
'Til we know
Do we trust in the process?
Or let it all go?
I guess now you know