My own tumour makes me sick.
It aint got no benefits
so Ima cut it off, aint no wrong in that
But before it dies it spreads.
doctor says there aint no hope.
So now this tomours got me
and its your fault.
because you wouldnt let me go.
The family kept me alive just so I could die.
Who said you can't choose family?
I'd like to meet that man.
because I can.
I can
more than any other man
Ive got a plan
A plan to remove this sickness you see?
Lets see if hey like it shall we?
Kind of dark? I like that.
But whats it?
Before I knew it
wraped in my own rage.
They've already disapeered.
They haven't been around in months.
But its taken me all this time to notice.
Sitting here wrapped in my own quiet rage.
It wont kill but it wont help
get through this pale oblique.
These smashing waves. Of self destruct.
I feel trapped. I get a glimpse again. And i'm reminded. How I fail to fly.. I fail to dream...But like all things
Ill only try again and again. To see past this illusion which tells me it is fate. I will face my fear. And answer the one question I've alwayse asked myself. Am I an artist? Or just some fool, or am I something more? Or do I already know the answer...I think so therfore I am...But who cares? I don't. Caring for you artwork is kind of like narcacsism... Putting it out there no matter what others say
Is how I see it. Fuck myself. Who am I to tell you who what my work means? Who am I to even get you questioning such things? It's a paradox you see? Who am I to say it's a paradox? But who are you to say it's not.
