Tell me, under what circumstances would you sell your soul?
At exactly what point does what defines you, get lost?
I mean, tell me really
When does your grip on control become
Just a weak effort to maintain your sanity?
How does being cool become so awkard?
Tell me,
How do you just SAY NO?
When do hypothetical hypotheses
Stop being just a figment of the creatively inclined mind
And become truth?
See, I’m not so sure if or when I’d actually sell out.
Eager to justify my contorted and misconstrued perceptions
On what reality could possibly be,
Not wanting to see the twisted monstrosity of it all,
How it just blows up in the midst of my tragic tale
Starting from a single grain about the size of a mustard seed.
Isn’t that all the faith we’re supposed to have anyway?
Faith! So easy to mentally comprehend but so hard to physically do.
I don’t have faith that I won’t sell out.
How many times can I take your verbal stabs of emotional innuendo
Before I finally just relent and let you creatively use me up?
Just like Jericho’s wall came tumbling down
My walls are being marched around and the trumpet is BLOWIN’
Blowing my mind and I can’t find refuge from my continuous travels of 360 degrees…
Back to square one.
How many soul piercing moments do I have to spend
In your web tangling deceptions before I realize that I have finally had enough?
When does it stop being so tough to be me?
To be all of me, even the parts of me that actually give me morals and loyalty?
Would I sell out? Could I sell out?
A wise man once said, To thine own self be true,
And surprisingly I find that I am the hardest person to be true to.
I mean, this is still me, but it’s funny that I don’t have answers to my own questions.
I find myself kicking and screaming inside my own womb
as if new life wants to emerge from deep within my loins
only to abort my own possibilities.
And I put myself through that loss over and over again.
Everytime I deny my conscience to appease the flesh
The flesh that weakens with every gleam in your eye
As if I’m entranced by your lyrical talk that lulls me into a
Perfectly composed piece of your orchestrated drama
I found that I put myself up on the market
And I’ve finally been sold.
At exactly what point does what defines you, get lost?
I mean, tell me really
When does your grip on control become
Just a weak effort to maintain your sanity?
How does being cool become so awkard?
Tell me,
How do you just SAY NO?
When do hypothetical hypotheses
Stop being just a figment of the creatively inclined mind
And become truth?
See, I’m not so sure if or when I’d actually sell out.
Eager to justify my contorted and misconstrued perceptions
On what reality could possibly be,
Not wanting to see the twisted monstrosity of it all,
How it just blows up in the midst of my tragic tale
Starting from a single grain about the size of a mustard seed.
Isn’t that all the faith we’re supposed to have anyway?
Faith! So easy to mentally comprehend but so hard to physically do.
I don’t have faith that I won’t sell out.
How many times can I take your verbal stabs of emotional innuendo
Before I finally just relent and let you creatively use me up?
Just like Jericho’s wall came tumbling down
My walls are being marched around and the trumpet is BLOWIN’
Blowing my mind and I can’t find refuge from my continuous travels of 360 degrees…
Back to square one.
How many soul piercing moments do I have to spend
In your web tangling deceptions before I realize that I have finally had enough?
When does it stop being so tough to be me?
To be all of me, even the parts of me that actually give me morals and loyalty?
Would I sell out? Could I sell out?
A wise man once said, To thine own self be true,
And surprisingly I find that I am the hardest person to be true to.
I mean, this is still me, but it’s funny that I don’t have answers to my own questions.
I find myself kicking and screaming inside my own womb
as if new life wants to emerge from deep within my loins
only to abort my own possibilities.
And I put myself through that loss over and over again.
Everytime I deny my conscience to appease the flesh
The flesh that weakens with every gleam in your eye
As if I’m entranced by your lyrical talk that lulls me into a
Perfectly composed piece of your orchestrated drama
I found that I put myself up on the market
And I’ve finally been sold.
... what was going wrong about polls and being blocked and stuff?