The fog wears off, the high goes low -
Thoughts that ought not to be still flow.
I move to the music that plays on in my head -
Yet I can't keep from wanting to kill you instead.
Anger rises, and anger does fall;
The things that you made me feel yet call.
You're the one that's amusing, now -
Full of silly old idiocies, anyhow.
My arms now go where they desire -
Around friends and those that I admire;
My conscience is clear, my hopes might be dim -
I am who I am, but I am not him.
Not the one you wanted me to be -
No longer a strange slave to your misery.
Two feet to stand on that I call my own -
No need to have you my thoughts condone.
My mouth is big and my voice loud,
While I drown my sorrows in a crowd;
Take your strength and fuck yourself with it,
I'd like to be polite, but my heart's not in it.
You've done enough to kill my spirit;
It lives on, this and every minute.
I might not be strong, I might not endure -
But I sure as hell am not your cure.
So take your pretenses, and be happy with that -
It wasn't my fault you were such a prat;
I'm glad somewhere that things are such,
That I shudder to think of your touch.
I have my realization, my own little epiphany;
Things are finally just as they should be.
I've given up enough trying to be good,
And been far too often misunderstood.
You have your intolerance, your greatest tool -
The one that makes you the biggest fool
In the world that we built for ourselves
The one you tore down since it matched not your ends.
I'm done with us and you, the two the same,
For they were no different, and you're to blame
For imposing yourself on so many things,
To pull everything with your strings.
This rhyme is rude, and goes on too long -
The message is simple, if a bit strong;
Fuck off, and go your own way.
You'll find your own epiphany, one of these days.
