Look - you think you're smarter than me
Well, everyone knows
You will never be smarter than me
That's how it goes
I gained forty pounds because of you
Was there an "S" on my chest?
Well I confess you were too much stress
I'd have a heart attack at best
So now I breathe it out, I breathe it out
and I spit it on the crowd
As they lift me up, they lift me up
They lift me up when I'm feeling down
What am I spitting out, spitting out,
Something we never talk about?
It's called my... mind
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say-say-say it
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say it
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say-say-say it
Now you're messing with my... pride
Well, I'm sick of standing in your line
So now you'll have to take it
Take this to heart
I will never let you **** me over
Stop talking down to me
Your war is old, your game is over
So here's my coldest shoulder
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say-say-say it
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say it
I don't wanna hear you say-say-say-say-say-say-say-say it
Now you're messing with my... pride
My pride...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All my life, I've been treading paper in the space between the words.
And there implied is that I'm but another body for the birds, carrion, absurd and accidental atoms -
Beating air, carrying on; unwitting orphan of an unyielding despair.
But linger on, just for a moment, until we can ascertain if something's wrong with me -
Or the assumptions of these self-indicted brains.
Because I contend that all of this is more than just a meaningless charade,
That each and every moment is a bottle with a message hid away.
If anything means anything,
There must be something meant for us to be, a song that we were made to sing.
There must be so much more than we can see.
But all our lives, we've been treading paper in the space between the words.
And there implied's the thought that we are barely more than bodies for the birds, carrion.
They say that we're just accidental atoms beating air, carrying on and on,
Unwitting orphans of an unyielding despair. But our hearts tell a different story; our hands feel a different pulse.
Something fathomless, deeper than our pride can dive; numinous, higher than -
Our hearts can rise, transcendent, further than our thoughts can reach; imminent, closer than the air we breathe.
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