You can tell from my scars by far i never lived a life real glamorous.
i was more concerned with spreading love like jam in grits,
smoking cannabis
and flying high through life making others feel amorous.
I would leave em as lovestruck fools- doing dirt in the street like dump trucks do.
Never had any dumb luck clues to make my own love come true
so i guess a life of solitude is what it's summed up to.
I know I'm sick and tortured because i tried to prick my own heart
but it's hard to pierce through walls put up but not of brick and mortar.
Had to question myself like, "who you living for bruh?"
"When times got hard you just kept on giving more love!"
I try to think of all of the times that i sacrificed,
It seemed sacrilegious because for love i had an insatiable appetite.
Thinking maybe i might find true love in the afterlife.
Because everything i try to love on this earth becomes bastardized.
It's ironic i was never into getting married
cause i was iconic nearly every February
but i was always putting others first my own heart was always secondary
now I'm sitting here regretting every
girl i pushed away cause i don't wanna be alone when i am dead and buried.
I guess i got a self destructive sickness although it's not lupus
i just don't know how to love but i know I'm not stupid.
Nor heartless i just kept my love locked down that way i would not lose it. thinking to myself like, "look what you got cupid."
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