I feel like I'm no saint, sent to be a relic and aversion of some sermon that I'm not learning, but I guess, I'll never know, because, I'll never know, the straight phone was over blown just to be shown to faces that were page less and people who were nameless, all overgrown, all over just to hone a "how cute" or an "i like you" with a happy face at the end. Because they don't know what it means to have a friend. Because their just like new, and they need a view, so they can't feel like their worthless like you. And they have this greed, that they need, more liars on their social media feed to buy them what they want, and to hunt their own social media stunt. Because in the end it's just a basket of lies, and you say their real guys, when they're all just flies, drawn to the honey before their eyes, but you wear a disguise, to shield your eyes from who you are, on the inside. And before you goodbye, just realize, there's no prize, for who shares the biggest lies. Goodbye. And if you wear a mask just to complete the task of putting on your big boy underpants. Don't dance, you'll just advance, to a bigger form of resistance (beat) To being who you were when you had the chance. And in their hands, you gave them a lance, to just have more arrogance. And if you call yourself a trader, that's no later, than when you decided to be a parador, of your own false facade, which you called, "sent from god" but he knows, and I know, that you are untrue, and for you, it's true. Under wire won't be your best pants, i told you to take them when you had the chance, but now it's your turn to dance, but you forgot who you were since your last stance. So now you go and dance with no underpants.
