I’ve told myself I refuse to be the loser of the two of us. Somebody’s going down, but it’s not me.
So now with pride and pain, hide my rain drops from my windows, my eyes, help you see you into my mental.
State of mind’s been stated fine but peace of mind I try to find in blinded times. Feeling on piano keys for conscience.
All this nonsense… takes my last breath and I am no longer me. My attitude is post-death.
My average too, it goes left. It seems I’m no longer right. If I don’t give you what I feel, then do I no longer fight?
Do I feel it in my veins, pull off on my conscience, think about it 3 times, before I even say it?
So then when I delay it, is it really the same? Is it really the game we play or is it fame?
We just live it for the moment. The past is all we’ve stolen. The future is our next heist. I’ll love you ’til my next life.
So I told you, my followers, about the show I was doing with Kenny. I ended up meeting a few of his friends and they were all chill as fuckpackets. We had a dope time and hit the stage a little after 10:30. Here’s the video for ya! My verse starts at 2:28 in the video. It’s so dark you can barely see me. I need to get an actual video camera for more vids :). Enjoy, and thanks for all the support!
Click here for the mobile version
[I present to you, the verse I’m laying down to Billionaire tonight. Enjoy!]
If I could just take all the madness, roll it in a ball and sell it to the pawn to receive my first billion, it’ll be more fulfilling than breathing my first air.
My first pair had the lights on the bottom, now the lights in the sky steal my attention when I watch ’em. Venting in my sentences, and hoping for some clarity. Disparity is mad at me and shows everywhere I go. Every where I show my stubled face.
So I replace it with a dream or two. So when I dream of you, it’s like swimming in the riches. Gold, diamonds, expensive linens, and cars with no limits. I’m down for the long haul baby, if you’re in it.
I know I’ve been tripping but along the way I learned some. Trust isn’t given. A heart? You gotta earn one. Deterred some, by all deferred in my nightmares, but right here I plan to change it all before the lights glare.
Unlike theirs, I keep mine on the low so I’m down to ground to like I breathe through my soles, so my soul’s sold for riches. I made my decisions. As long as you’re here my heart is a billionaire.
So my boy Kenny is leaving New York to go to Oklahoma. I think he’s leaving to become a serial killer of some kind. He’s probably going for the cow tipping action.
Anyway, tonight is his farewell party and it looks like we’ll be doing our first, but hopefully not last, song together. I don’t know what there is to do in Oklahoma, but I’m not there, so I don’t think anyone should ever go there. But I wish the homie good luck!
Stay tuned for some video coverage of us writing over Billionaire by Travis McCoy ft. Bruno Mars.
It’s crazy how music becomes universal when it’s done right. Political or personal. Loving or feeding the urge to strangle that one person you can’t stand, knowing you’d love to work out and get your legs strong enough to kick them into a brick wall. I’m sitting here blasting Black Republicans and just the instrumental alone makes me want to sit on a rooftop with a cigarette in my mouth, just for the fuck of it. No jumping, no dramatic “end my life” shit. Just… sit.
Think a little bit. Is this what it’s all about? Life via music. Linkin Park plays with my emotions like they know me. Fuck yeah, I love them. Can’t relate to rap, even though I do sag my jeans. I can’t wear my jeans without sagging just a bit. It’s become a matter of comfort, but I just like a little breathing room. I’m not showing off the ass of my boxers.
Death metal fueled me enough to punch a hole through 2 walls and my bedroom door. Emo crap fed my mishandling of my emotions. I still struggle with that, unfortunately. Silence of poetry, that gave me the power to take my punches to paper and blogs. The absence of music even gets me.
What can touch me when I’m feeling like I do now? No emotion. Nothing at all. No love, no hate, no remorse, no jealousy, no fear. Life escapes, and I become nothing more than a spot on a grid. No locations, just the lines, the rules that we’re supposed to follow. Like now, what the hell am I talking about? I know it well, to you it’s nonsense. Maybe one day you’ll get me. Until then, it’s just me and the only thing that brings me back to life. Punk rock for now. The music.
I can’t keep running away.
I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one whose felt, multiple times and probably right now, that Linkin Park stalks their life, goes back into the future (or forward into the past) and then writes a song, so you can listen to it 3 years later and go…
What the fuckpackets?! It’s like they wrote my LIFE!!
For that reason I love Linkin. I don’t know what it is about their songs but they just have a song for every single occasion and you never hear Linkin Park songs unless you’re currently or recently upset. It’s like they get some kind of queue from Mother Theresa herself to go jump into your brain and help make sense out of what you feel.
“Take everything from the inside!” they say. This is how I feel sometimes. “Just throw it all away!”. Yes, just throw it all away. I don’t need it anymore.
This just goes to show that not only is Linkin Park full of emotion and the ability to stalk me undetected, but they’re also full of spring cleaning tips and instructions.