Before you dare to fuckin’ accuse me to be,
a pre-Madonna, you just might wanna,
consider the following:

I might cry,
but no matter what I’ll still lie,
to the public who asks me why?
Why I have no pride in the family I subside,
in the shit that I live in and have seen go wrong through these eyes?

I don’t feel the need to give a fuck about the people who wine,
Or others who didn’t care to leave it to more than the flip of a coin,
or were too ignorant or to shy to even try,
and didn’t realize they were no ally,
and that they’d be doin’ a favor if they had just gone and died.

I say fuck ‘em at first thought, but at the end of the day, I’ll pry
be sung a melody of a felony or nursery rhyme of a crime
to help me get back in line.
Where there are no fables, turned tables, twisted tales or attached cables.
And I’ll be forced to say sorry for the mistakes of others and their fucked assets, and sorry that karma exists without any emergency exits.

I’ll never stop to think it before I lie.
It’s a way of life when people ask me why.
So here’s to the people who’ve made me cry,
have helped me fuck up my mind,
and make me wanna smoke tokes ‘till my life’s memories are fried!
If you can’t fuckin’ answer me why,
get BACK ON YOUR SIDE OF THE LINE,
and get back into hidin’
in your skin you don’t fit in,
and testing your heart that’s like mine’,
that love can’t be applied to and is darkly dyed,
any attempts at love will be quickly denied,
that must have been ripped open, backstabbed, and ripped open wide.
Coz it taunts you ‘till you wanna start a brawl or host a drive bye for a goodbye,
and not stop ‘till it’s all turned into a spiraling death-roll on standby.
But you’re stronger than that, and sometimes can just shrug it off and watch life pass by.

I’m built from a family of genetic and magnetic lies.
A family that will forevermore be victim to their stuck lies,
and will chew up and spit out all the people who either break down or give escape a try.
The bullshit and sighs, letdowns and cheap buys,
and the guys that cheat on girls, and disgust you ‘till the point you turn bye,
(only until you realize your family’s made you HATE dykes and gay guys,)
are just the beginning of all the kinds,
of things that keep the suicidal thoughts at the back of your mind.

Karma will wait ‘till your eyes are almost dried,
and in your prayers you hear a distant reply,
THEN everything will untie.
And you have no choice but to fall into group and comply,
It’s impossible to defy what you were built to do…
You can’t help but act spry and hide how you hate to lie.
You need to more than imply,
That there is nobody nearby in who you can trust or rely,
You’re sly but inside can’t hide,
that you need for once an anxiety-free shuteye.
It’s just something you can’t get coz the pressure continues like pi.
Anti peace continues, and pain thereby will still fly high in the sky,
And continue to rain down in high demand as tears of the damned and I.