Trust cannot be trusted and I can't respect respect
When honesty combusted in a sick inclement chest
When tragedy is something of a freedom gone inept
By virtue of a virtue stained, my dignity bereft.
Maybe it's the marajuana maybe it's the pain
Misplaced, misthought, misfelt, mismatched, misgiven by your claim.
Maybe it's the quality a better half has lacked
Or those which you have circumscribed to mask the trashy fact.
Maybe I'm a psycho with a soft spot in my heart
Or maybe I'm a genius with a heart that fell apart
Or maybe I'm a simpleton who cannot see the forest
Or maybe I'm a wicked one who purposely ignores it.
Or maybe "maybe's" not a word and what I am just is
And what "just is" is nothing more than pain and ignorance.
Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor envie uma correção clicando aqui!