Them (A Prelude)
(专辑: The Throwaway Kids - 2013)
I
remember the
old me The
one that was hesitant and simple Afraid, tolerant and invisible Only notice when I
was at the
end of a
punchline or a
punch And punchlines hurt more With a
bruised identity and a
shattered perception of who I
was I
confined myself to a
carousel A
merry go round, that was less merry and more toxic A
systematic awkwardness A
discomfort in disconnect with salvation A
punishment deserved A
loneliness inherited because I
did not fit in with them I
lingered in a
constant nightmare Sleepwalking my days away Helplessly, hopelessly, Horrified An inperfection waiting for surgical hands to reach down and Lipo suck my existence From a
world that had ridiculed and booby trapped me into an empty shell of worthlessness When will it stop I
remember the
day I
stopped trying to figure out who I
was And instead I
asked the
question "Why do they hate me?" Because hate is conveniently fueled by fear And fear is a
much easier emotion than courage So why are they scared of me? Why did I
not fit in, with them? Armed with poison tip tongues they released the
stockpile of venomous delusions and hatred Freak, weirdo, faggot, loser, misfit, different they howled But you see My lexicon does not succumb to your meaningless ignorance and lack of originality My shoulders have carried the
weight of a
thousand voiceless screams So I
stand here before you and say "Do your worst" Words are wind and your weapon of choice will no longer control me You will no longer render me inferior So while they dwell in that pitiful superficial cave The
flames of the
roaring fire dance upon the
wall They remain mentally shackled Possessed by the
puppet shadows, projected before them Distorted vibrations cocooned by the
unaware Cookie cutter personality with hollowed minds For that is their reality They tried to confine me to the
night (ha ha) But I
like the
taste of the
dark And as I
looked through the
cracks in the
wall an untangled the
cobwebs of thought I
finally know who I
am I
will no longer be backhanded or backstabbed I
can no longer backpaddle and blackout I
will no longer stand still and fear the
worse I've got a
fettish for destruction and an appetit for creativity Razerbladed teardrops trickle down and slice my face into puddles of emotional distress and actualization I
will no longer be tormented by illusion that being different is being wrong A
throwaway kid they called me And a
throwaway kid I
am No longer empty and alone Finally happy That I
will never fit in, with them