Cut, cut, cut, cutting myself down to pieces.
Too hard on myself, it would seem,
That everyone could see my self-worth but me.
I'll take a stand, devise plans, figure it out.
I'll take my cuts and stitch them up with sutures of pure cement.
And I've realized...
There's no right way to go.
So what if I'm a sinner?
I've got black spots on my liver,
And cancer growing on both my lungs.
We take everything we know,
About ourselves and put them in a diary.
In a fire ring of scrutiny, but oh not me now.
I think I'm ready to go.
Back, back, back, back to the crooner in question.
I sure hope you all like my songs.
Well maybe I put too much stock in my rhymes,
And melodies to stun the brainwashed minds.
From day one I took pride in my pure and honest intentions.
And I've realized...
There's no right way to go.
So what if I'm a sinner?
I've got black spots on my liver,
And cancer growing on both my lungs.
We take everything we know,
About ourselves and put them in a diary.
In a fire ring of scrutiny, but oh not me now.
I think I'm ready to go.
And I've realized,
That I don't wanna be judged no more.
And I've realized...
There's no right way to go.
So what if I'm a sinner?
I've got black spots on my liver,
And cancer growing on both my lungs.
We take everything we know,
About ourselves and put them in a diary.
In a fire ring of scrutiny, but oh not me now.
I think I'm ready to go.
I think I'm ready to go.
