i try to refrain from lookin too needy

but i often wonder if you know how much you mean to me

i have a history of fallin in love too easily

these’ll be the days that turn me to a jesus freak

the last thing i wanted, was to put a bump in the line

            of your vital signs

i’mma jump to your rhyme

i’mma skip to your lou/i’mma leap through them hoops

gather up the loot/play ya like pan’s flute

i’mma man the tools that fuels the fire in your jewels

make a noose with fishing wire, i’mma strangle with the spool

scarab beetles in Judas Iscariot’s cranium

a pair of needles in my veins/ i’m gonna have to save me some

            of them ends

            kiss light while it bends

i’mma clutch the plight

hold it tight

till night comes to end

then i’m greetin the sun cause the weekend is done

got a bag and a pipe gonna have me some fun

i like scotch, i like rum

i like shootin them guns

poke a hole in the sky drink the water that runs

deeply through the river giver slither inside

squeezing on her figure triggers sliver to slide in the skin

                                                            i’ve got a grin

and tonight i’m gonna crawl inside a bottle of gin

the realist in me already cut his own wrists

the optimist only wants to rub your lips

he wants to memorize your fountain and recite the drips

the pessimist sees wall a board and a fist

he uses a brick to crack open his skull

he lets his mind drift instead of repairing the hull

his compass will always point back to you

he held the vision in place with a tack and a screw

i’d like to inventory and get honest for a minuet

i ain’t tryin to rhyme but it keeps the stories spinnin

i only fall in love with women attracted to women

think it comes from the fact we share some similar interests

it’s encouraged by creative expression and love for the arts

and lessons that are learned when intuition’s in the heart

and it’s dancing romancing the bullet and the chamber

i’m standing on the brink trying to drink the remainder

but all I got left is my cynical laugh

it covers up the tears, the pain, the anger, and the wrath

and if no one knows the difference, they’ll think I’m a real man

but i’m not

i’m a kid who’d rather sleep inside a cemetery

pick apart the pixels strip it down to binary

you and me we an equal yet opposite charge

we carry round these equal yet opposite parts

i got skills with the tool that’ll make you see stars

if you want me to i’ll catch ‘em you can keep ‘em in jars

if you want me to i’ll break apart every prisons bars

if you want me to i’ll use my hands and build you home

i’ll do anything you want, even leave you alone

the realist in me already cut his own wrists

the optimist only wants to rub your lips

he wants to memorize your fountain and recite the drips

the pessimist sees wall a board and a fist

he uses a brick to crack open his skull

he lets his mind drift instead of repairing the hull

his compass will always point back to you

he held the vision in place with a tack and a screw

and he’s slipping, leaping, shaking, breathing, needing and dreaming

and he’s tearing off his eyelids at the thought of you leaving

he’s bleeding on the seedlings, encouraging growth

but the feeling is needling at the back of his throat

cause he’s staring at the ceiling and he’s sleeping alone

he can’t even cope/he’s starting to choke

cold sweat twisted in the sheets life battered his boat

hold tight he’s ripping the disease from outta his bones

every one of his dreams is holding you close

he can’t even toast his thoughts, the words are a ghost

he don’t mean to boast, he loves rockin a show

when you hear it, taste the spirit cause it’s starting to grow

and if you look very close, you’ll see his breath cause it glows

like the police man did, i beg my tears to flow

the realist in me already cut his own wrists

the optimist only wants to rub your lips

he wants to memorize your fountain and recite the drips

the pessimist sees wall a board and a fist

he uses a brick to crack open his skull

he lets his mind drift instead of repairing the hull

his compass will always point back to you

he replaced the needle but he cracked the tube

my hope was better off empty

the notes were only just pretending.

the music in my life is descending

my songs never could have a happy ending