I wrote This after Sandy Hook. I let my emotions spill onto the page when i wrote it, but my work took an unexpected twist. Stay tuned to figure out what it was:
Now I never put my scoop in on shootin' murder in mass groupin'
But I Just wonder, like really do they know what they're doin'?
Gettin' as many before that last suicide
Why did you bring in extra people, you didn't need their help just to die.
But I will take you inside these homicidical eyes
Where I don't need to be tried
Either way I get judged by analytical ties
Reasons stand wide while the true answers hide
As I pull the trigger I'm blind, yet I SEE emotions collide
later on you see cryin'
But no eyes will be dryin'
As they figure out how to charge this crime,
And things iron themselves out as they find my identity.
Then they go and tell the public that it's me that's their enemy.
But really I'm a product of desolate fixtures,
Growing up with no culture: an American mixture.
But a true breed, conjured of shooting, drinking and "swishers"
I really can't pretend that I ever could fit in
The separate the crazy so in school I couldn't blend
They're paving the way, so what I do fits the trend
Imagine what would've happened if only we were his friend.
