Baby, let me tell you a story about my life and the dawn of my years
Maybe even stab a verbal dagger in your heart through your eyes and ears
The story of a psycho in the making, who was driven crazy by the wheel he never steers
And it almost seems like those years deprived him of his right to dream, he fears
You see, he had no time to dream because he was busy getting beaten up and prohibited to scream
And yell for help, but what help would reach when tears vaporize before falling off this blood stream
Incalculable pain measured only in years wasted and tears tasted but he faced it and stood up to prove
That he’s not what they told him he was…yet, one word he knows is not true…but, for the fuckin love of god, it won’t move
“You’re a waste of space”…”You’re a waste of space”…yeah…SUCH a waste
You didn’t want your hand facing an obstacle while you’re waving it and wished there wasn’t an accidental face?
“A waste of space…and resources…”
So is that why you tried burning my back and shoulder? To cook me and put me on copper plates?
But you failed! You didn’t devour me, bro. Which is ironic judging by how much I am in your face
So how the fuck does it taste?
Who’s the fucking waste of space?
I rolled the papers I wrote my poetry on, placed a condom on them and made them suck my words
They’re shaking their heads on them, but there’ll come a day when it all make sense and final thoughts emerge
When they venture into this legendary mind, put their mouths on my pipe, take a drag and call me a myth head
Red with anger, green with envy…But to me they’re just black…and as a kid I read the word “live” misspelled
Now I get why they call me Jesus…I had my own filicidal father, but he died on a boat
And I dreamed that that boat floated on the sea of blood I made when I slit my brother’s throat
Hell, I remember all of them when I swallow my tears and follow them with my pride and when I choke
This vicious circle was too wide and heavy for me to sever, so I wore it as a collar until my collarbones broke
But, baby, I got carried away…allow me to tell you what happened after the dawn went away and came midday
I turned off the jam on the radio of madness, got radio-activated, addicted to happiness and addiction-infective to harmony and grace
I just took a long nap and learned how to dream, how to color my faith in tomorrow and how to smile when I say
I have risen from those ashes…to host you in my arms with a rash, allergic to midday’s hot sunray
And now the sun is setting, my collarbones are healing and I’m rising
I gaze upon the sunset’s harmless rays and colors in the vast horizon
The sun will set and it’s just minutes till nightfall
But it won’t be my darkest hours, I have already forgot how to weep and crawl
So hold this brush and color this painting with me
Or grab an axe and let’s chop down this Oak of hatred, for no one is there to hear
And hold my hand…no, not this one…not the hand I was dealt, and then you’ll see
That somehow, somewhere along the road I lost all, but losing you is the worst I fear.