Baby, let me tell you a story about my life and the dawn of my years

Maybe even stab a verbal dagger in your heart through your eyes and ears

The story of a psycho in the making, who was driven crazy by the wheel he never steers

And it almost seems like those years deprived him of his right to dream, he fears

You see, he had no time to dream because he was busy getting beaten up and prohibited to scream

And yell for help, but what help would reach when tears vaporize before falling off this blood stream

Incalculable pain measured only in years wasted and tears tasted but he faced it and stood up to prove

That he’s not what they told him he was…yet, one word he knows is not true…but, for the fuckin love of god, it won’t move

“You’re a waste of space”…”You’re a waste of space”…yeah…SUCH a waste

You didn’t want your hand facing an obstacle while you’re waving it and wished there wasn’t an accidental face?

“A waste of space…and resources…”

So is that why you tried burning my back and shoulder? To cook me and put me on copper plates?

But you failed! You didn’t devour me, bro. Which is ironic judging by how much I am in your face

So how the fuck does it taste?

Who’s the fucking waste of space?

I rolled the papers I wrote my poetry on, placed a condom on them and made them suck my words

They’re shaking their heads on them, but there’ll come a day when it all make sense and final thoughts emerge

When they venture into this legendary mind, put their mouths on my pipe, take a drag and call me a myth head

Red with anger, green with envy…But to me they’re just black…and as a kid I read the word “live” misspelled

Now I get why they call me Jesus…I had my own filicidal father, but he died on a boat

And I dreamed that that boat floated on the sea of blood I made when I slit my brother’s throat

Hell, I remember all of them when I swallow my tears and follow them with my pride and when I choke

This vicious circle was too wide and heavy for me to sever, so I wore it as a collar until my collarbones broke

But, baby, I got carried away…allow me to tell you what happened after the dawn went away and came midday

I turned off the jam on the radio of madness, got radio-activated, addicted to happiness and addiction-infective to harmony and grace

I just took a long nap and learned how to dream, how to color my faith in tomorrow and how to smile when I say

I have risen from those ashes…to host you in my arms with a rash, allergic to midday’s hot sunray

And now the sun is setting, my collarbones are healing and I’m rising

I gaze upon the sunset’s harmless rays and colors in the vast horizon

The sun will set and it’s just minutes till nightfall

But it won’t be my darkest hours, I have already forgot how to weep and crawl

So hold this brush and color this painting with me

Or grab an axe and let’s chop down this Oak of hatred, for no one is there to hear

And hold my hand…no, not this one…not the hand I was dealt, and then you’ll see

That somehow, somewhere along the road I lost all, but losing you is the worst I fear.