Peace, Perspective & Hope (Spoken Word Outro)
We don't walk our own path
It's predetermined like the careful placement of a laugh track
It's a sad fact, that in truth we have no control
We're all victims of uncertainty, finality and distant goals
I know I
So close to suicide in dealing with the fact that I have no control over the part of me that's alive, and the part of me that's already dead inside
Playing victim ALL DAY, it's a struggle
When your thoughts feel suppressed by a barrier like a muzzle
When your mind feels controlled by another like a drone
When your thoughts seem louder than your own words, like a deaf girl
And it's funny sometimes, the confidence that hides the tears behind and feeds me lies
Is the same state of mind that raises joy enough to keep me feeling high
The depression, in essence, it's all superficial
The plot of inception is more grounded in reality than my own mental
But sometimes you cannot see through the illusion and the only explanation for it is a serious fucking brain contusion
But while I sit here whining, crying over mental issues, there's little children in Africa hungry starving dying
Crying without a tissue
Telling their loved ones "I miss you"
"Save me a spot up there, one day I'll soon be with you"
Even some like me, who don't know what the fuck is going on inside their heads, but then look down at their hands, and see no water, see no bread
It's petty really it's petty my problems are so insignificant it's crazy how bad I feel for my self for my own, insignificance
That's really it isn't it, I feel like I don't matter, like an electron-positron collision
Time to make a decision
Am I in or out, or up or down, alive or dead, lost or found
Maybe it's not that easy
Maybe it's not the simple fact that I'm depressed and suicidal that's the cause of all of my distress or my inability to feel pride or, my perpetual denial
But then I think back to Africa, and all the folks who need our help and all the kids who need to find themselves
How could I be so selfish
I tell you I care about the kids, I care about the trees, I care I said I care I truly care about everything so why the FUCK does no one seem to care... about me
These self destructive thoughts are paradoxically constructive to parables of corruption
But is this just my brain talking?
Do people truly care and I'm just delusional like a man in a wheelchair tripping on acid who in his mind really believes he's walking?
If so I say fuck suicide
That's not my disordered speaking brain thats me
The only lives you're destroying are the lives of those people standing by your side
They inherit the pain you've had for the rest of their lives
My circle of friends, on whom I wholly depend, are more precious to me than any diamond, sapphire, or meaningless temporary trend
My life for as long as I can is what I choose
What say you
It's predetermined like the careful placement of a laugh track
It's a sad fact, that in truth we have no control
We're all victims of uncertainty, finality and distant goals
I know I
So close to suicide in dealing with the fact that I have no control over the part of me that's alive, and the part of me that's already dead inside
Playing victim ALL DAY, it's a struggle
When your thoughts feel suppressed by a barrier like a muzzle
When your mind feels controlled by another like a drone
When your thoughts seem louder than your own words, like a deaf girl
And it's funny sometimes, the confidence that hides the tears behind and feeds me lies
Is the same state of mind that raises joy enough to keep me feeling high
The depression, in essence, it's all superficial
The plot of inception is more grounded in reality than my own mental
But sometimes you cannot see through the illusion and the only explanation for it is a serious fucking brain contusion
But while I sit here whining, crying over mental issues, there's little children in Africa hungry starving dying
Crying without a tissue
Telling their loved ones "I miss you"
"Save me a spot up there, one day I'll soon be with you"
Even some like me, who don't know what the fuck is going on inside their heads, but then look down at their hands, and see no water, see no bread
It's petty really it's petty my problems are so insignificant it's crazy how bad I feel for my self for my own, insignificance
That's really it isn't it, I feel like I don't matter, like an electron-positron collision
Time to make a decision
Am I in or out, or up or down, alive or dead, lost or found
Maybe it's not that easy
Maybe it's not the simple fact that I'm depressed and suicidal that's the cause of all of my distress or my inability to feel pride or, my perpetual denial
But then I think back to Africa, and all the folks who need our help and all the kids who need to find themselves
How could I be so selfish
I tell you I care about the kids, I care about the trees, I care I said I care I truly care about everything so why the FUCK does no one seem to care... about me
These self destructive thoughts are paradoxically constructive to parables of corruption
But is this just my brain talking?
Do people truly care and I'm just delusional like a man in a wheelchair tripping on acid who in his mind really believes he's walking?
If so I say fuck suicide
That's not my disordered speaking brain thats me
The only lives you're destroying are the lives of those people standing by your side
They inherit the pain you've had for the rest of their lives
My circle of friends, on whom I wholly depend, are more precious to me than any diamond, sapphire, or meaningless temporary trend
My life for as long as I can is what I choose
What say you