January 28, 2009 8:57 A.M.
Write a song in your head
And they'll find it once you're dead
Maybe they'll feel it
Because they sure (as) hell won't hear it
It could be a lie
Or even a sick excuse for one
Just imprint it on the inside
Give it light and it'll grow (like you)
But once you're gone it'll be through
Hide it well, out of sight
Your own little secret (delight)
When you're gone there is not you
But a seed could prove to be your legacy (empathy)
Mildly poetic it may rot in your head
But the cross hairs aren't aimed (at you) yet
You could still run (if you want)
If you can, dare you to stay there
Glued to the floor
Just stand there and breathe air (or don't)
Write a song in your head
And they'll find it once you're dead
If you're lucky
(If they choose to look through what makes you, you...)
And they'll find it once you're dead
Maybe they'll feel it
Because they sure (as) hell won't hear it
It could be a lie
Or even a sick excuse for one
Just imprint it on the inside
Give it light and it'll grow (like you)
But once you're gone it'll be through
Hide it well, out of sight
Your own little secret (delight)
When you're gone there is not you
But a seed could prove to be your legacy (empathy)
Mildly poetic it may rot in your head
But the cross hairs aren't aimed (at you) yet
You could still run (if you want)
If you can, dare you to stay there
Glued to the floor
Just stand there and breathe air (or don't)
Write a song in your head
And they'll find it once you're dead
If you're lucky
(If they choose to look through what makes you, you...)