Please ignore the following. It's only self-talk :
Do you know where you are?
You
Do you know who you are?
You know what you are
You are dead inside
Your soul is hollow
Your cup is empty
Your shine faded ten years ago
When you began to doubt yourself
When what you were in your head was totally different to what you were in real life
I've never been so unsure in my life
Now, here I am
The road has been long
And I'm no fool
But why do I keep turning my back on what I know?
I hold myself back everyday
Just like Owen Wilson telling Sarah Jessica Parker
"You're a freak, but you ain't flying the freak flag"
I'm a....what?
What am I? Fucking bugs, all different, no two are alike
Goddammit, you are such an idiotic asshole
I wish I could strangle you
I feel like shooting my fucking brains
I've gone so far from where I started
I can't turn back now
I can't go back to where I was
I'm a different person
But I'm pissed that I've not changed
Nothing affects me
My heart is dead
And I hate myself for that
I wish I could rain down on me now
But thinking about it, it's always been like this
Remember being a prefect?
Remember going to boarding school?
Remember feeling that you're trapped?
I don't know where it comes from
Maybe I'm insane. I could be.
But maybe I'm just incapable of enjoying what I have
Always longing for things which are out of reach
I've been sick and tired for years
Now I know that when I do something
It's never ever good enough
So why do I do it?
Can't I just give you the bare facts and let you deal with it.
OK, so I'm inexperienced.
"One of these days I'm gonna..."
What? Fly away? Yeah right.
You can fly high right now, today, as long as you can dream.
Remember dreams?
I think I've pushed those things far far away, just so I could get by.
That sucks, right. To be a slave to circumstances instead of taking destiny by the balls and directing it into the sunshine
I can't write
Honestly
It sucks
My head's probably abnormal. I might be crazy.
Hell, yeah
These words they come from nowhere but I want it to mean something
What am I trying to say?
Why's it so difficult to type.
Yes, I keep forgetting about the typing software I'm supposed to get from my colleague
Staring in a blank page before me
I'm a book that hasn't been written
What the..!?
Dead inside
You are dead
And I've been an idiot to think all my dreams could come true
MAYBE NOT YET!
I can't afford to be pessimistic about my life, dude.
I'm fucked up, I admit it. But you know, the best remedy in any problenm is to talk it out with people. Anybody. And I don't mean psychiatrists. I mean anyone who could give some feedback. The feedback ain't crucial. That person should just be able to fucking listen.
And being alone, though it's part of my nature, is really bad in large doses. I mean, what's the deal with going back to JB and feeling bored? I should be extatic, man. Hometown, Rock'n Roll.
And this place here. Dude, we should check out the sights and hook up with the babes (honey, you know what I mean). Fuck feeling like shit. Hell, everyone feels like shit all the time. Stop thinking about it and let's travel!
I love writing about music. So go on.
Fort Minor is an opportunity for Mike Shenoda to say fuck a gazillion times. And he spits out the personal stuff on the Fort Minor record.
You got everything here, phat beats backing up some straight-forward personal stories. It's heavy and we, the music listener, appreciate the honesty.
But brace yourself for more hip hop than rock. There are just bits and pieces of rawkkk, but it's all good because the beats makes my head bop as I listen to the CD in the car.
Do you know where you are?
You
Do you know who you are?
You know what you are
You are dead inside
Your soul is hollow
Your cup is empty
Your shine faded ten years ago
When you began to doubt yourself
When what you were in your head was totally different to what you were in real life
I've never been so unsure in my life
Now, here I am
The road has been long
And I'm no fool
But why do I keep turning my back on what I know?
I hold myself back everyday
Just like Owen Wilson telling Sarah Jessica Parker
"You're a freak, but you ain't flying the freak flag"
I'm a....what?
What am I? Fucking bugs, all different, no two are alike
Goddammit, you are such an idiotic asshole
I wish I could strangle you
I feel like shooting my fucking brains
I've gone so far from where I started
I can't turn back now
I can't go back to where I was
I'm a different person
But I'm pissed that I've not changed
Nothing affects me
My heart is dead
And I hate myself for that
I wish I could rain down on me now
But thinking about it, it's always been like this
Remember being a prefect?
Remember going to boarding school?
Remember feeling that you're trapped?
I don't know where it comes from
Maybe I'm insane. I could be.
But maybe I'm just incapable of enjoying what I have
Always longing for things which are out of reach
I've been sick and tired for years
Now I know that when I do something
It's never ever good enough
So why do I do it?
Can't I just give you the bare facts and let you deal with it.
OK, so I'm inexperienced.
"One of these days I'm gonna..."
What? Fly away? Yeah right.
You can fly high right now, today, as long as you can dream.
Remember dreams?
I think I've pushed those things far far away, just so I could get by.
That sucks, right. To be a slave to circumstances instead of taking destiny by the balls and directing it into the sunshine
I can't write
Honestly
It sucks
My head's probably abnormal. I might be crazy.
Hell, yeah
These words they come from nowhere but I want it to mean something
What am I trying to say?
Why's it so difficult to type.
Yes, I keep forgetting about the typing software I'm supposed to get from my colleague
Staring in a blank page before me
I'm a book that hasn't been written
What the..!?
Dead inside
You are dead
And I've been an idiot to think all my dreams could come true
MAYBE NOT YET!
I can't afford to be pessimistic about my life, dude.
I'm fucked up, I admit it. But you know, the best remedy in any problenm is to talk it out with people. Anybody. And I don't mean psychiatrists. I mean anyone who could give some feedback. The feedback ain't crucial. That person should just be able to fucking listen.
And being alone, though it's part of my nature, is really bad in large doses. I mean, what's the deal with going back to JB and feeling bored? I should be extatic, man. Hometown, Rock'n Roll.
And this place here. Dude, we should check out the sights and hook up with the babes (honey, you know what I mean). Fuck feeling like shit. Hell, everyone feels like shit all the time. Stop thinking about it and let's travel!
I love writing about music. So go on.
Fort Minor is an opportunity for Mike Shenoda to say fuck a gazillion times. And he spits out the personal stuff on the Fort Minor record.
You got everything here, phat beats backing up some straight-forward personal stories. It's heavy and we, the music listener, appreciate the honesty.
But brace yourself for more hip hop than rock. There are just bits and pieces of rawkkk, but it's all good because the beats makes my head bop as I listen to the CD in the car.
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