I need your attention for a moment.
Just a tick on your wrist watch, this has something to do with your lack of talk.
With that not-so strut in your walk.
I am directing like this is a movie and you are my star.
It is time to ask that question.
Where'd you get that scar?
Those marks, bark on a tree is smoother, you lied to me.
Tried to misuse me. Tried to confuse me.
But you are confused, misused and lost without a single fucking clue.
Who am I to ask?
I am the head honcho, el policia that will go breaking down that metaphorical safe door.
It is time I heard it - The truth. Not some fake, retake of a remake that you spoon fed me like a toodler that don't know no mistake.
Was it you?
Bring the blade to the skin - Slice it so that it has rows both thick and thin.
Butchers would struggle with that precision, what brought you to think doing such actions was a smart decision?
I am your friend,
I am the tick in time, and the annoyance in clairvoyance.
So what do we do?
Not me, not you, not who but the combination of the elaborate conglomerate that surrounds you.
We are people who care about you, not what you do but the person beneath the skin that defines you.
In a short time you will come to see, we are more alike than next of kin could be.
We are the rightful. We are the aires. We are the generation who care why we fight.
We have the right. We have the might.
You hold the light...
Don't lose sight of all that could be, but always keep an eye on your inner me.