http://windmillsblog.tumblr.com/post/81411067203/windmills-get-up
Where to go from here? It’s clear I’m on my own.
Yet, I still feel off the chain like stolen bicycles.
It was drilled in my head that I’m a selfish fuck,
That I get on my own nerves when I talk too much.
Told that I live my life, disconnected and empty
With a smile that’s insane as if I’m over friendly.
So do what you will, I’m still here, and I won’t leave.
But look at how mean you can be, that it's so sweet!
Run for the hills, I’m as ill as your whole team.
Drove off a cliff and I landed on both feet.
Will I admit that I’m done with the old me?
The dirtier it gets, the more I’m feeling I’m so clean
That I don’t need molly to be rolling with these changes;
I’m at the library in a quiet meditation.
Damn! People look pissed off and too abrasive,
With lots of personality and no conversation.
An epic name is who inspired me to thinking,
I’ve hit the home run, I’m just rounding all the bases.
I’m sky diving into your world
Designed of high flying, up from the earth.
Will not be defeated, hell is for freezing,
Scream till it’s peaceful as walking on beaches!
Laugh at how dark it can get in this place,
As if you’re eating the soul of a demon for strength.
I was made to be grateful, tested in faith;
Of how it can rain, when they’ve spit in your face.
Being Framework is pizza, ice cream, and cake;
So what’s next on the menu? I’m scraping the plate.
If it’s talking to Jesus behind heavens gate,
Then I’m not gonna leave here without saying, thanks!
I’m rocking like Raida on the crossfader.
His loss to the scene was a major heartbreaker.
This is me when I’m talking to myself, get UP!
Humiliated, degraded, so what? Get up!
Ashamed that you’ve been played and betrayed. Get UP!
Get up, get UP, GET UP! Get up, get UP, GET UP!
You’re not the first to learn how hard it is to fall;
Died so many times, yet I’m living through it all, get up!
Until you’re stronger than you’ve ever been before, get up!
Get up, get UP, GET UP! Get up, get UP, GET UP!
To trigger every bit of you to get into the rhythm
Is an easy job as if I was a southern Cali weatherman.
Ice grilling me is fine, because you’re out of hand
For thinking you can school me on some Mary Had a Little Lamb.
I’m still polite as fuck and love my son regardless,
Dealing with bullshit like another day at the office.
Thirty-three, can you believe I’ve only gotten started
To feel it like an acid trip while running through the forest?
So much food for thought and yet I’m still a starving artist,
Raw as bands learning how to play songs in their garages.
Coming at full speed in two thousand fourteen,
And live for these moments to hold like a trophy.
'Cause heads have really gotten fat, fatter than some laces
While the little kid inside of them is hiding under blankets.
And of course, they truly want it, they can get it then,
But I refuse to believe that I’m a wicked man.
Cold as stories told made by Al Capone,
Cold as icicles froze to broken homes,
Flows that break your nose like a wishing bone,
Carefully composed with the microphone.
I must have made the most of how to take it slow
'Cause, now I’m back to living fast, fast as I can go.
Yet, it chills me to the bone, knowing how I’m not alone
And that you can have a dark soul with a heart of gold.
stormborns
snowghoul
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
janainaart
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
