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Written and Produced by Joe Turone.
Engineered by James Stevens.
I find that I've become an open book
but not everybody picks one up
so in other words I'm just weird and misunderstood
well go figure, let's take a look at Exhibit A
it shows participation in these games that I'm finally old enough to play
building to destroy again then rebuild by the inches
is a man more than a man if he can keep a door on its hinges?
I've been searching for the key and at the thought it has me itching
and Jigsaw's trying to tell me it's right under my eyes, he's fibbing
he's got to be...right?
somebody say yes
the distance from my answer's even further with these baby steps
and I may regret these statements that I make with exclamation marks
as I eagerly await that speech called "I need space" to start
but then I may depart, In my defence
the fence has always been too high, so I waited for my sixth sense
and plagiarised my way from A to B whilst the stakes were high
then graduation takes its tide, alas my passion came to life
my only fear is something else woke
an egotistic version of myself procrastinating deteriorating health
well never mind, cos I remain in double digits
I'm sure we have more than enough time before I'm finished here
but I can kick rhymes for the minute even if little to none care
I was a fool, all my estimates were "second to none"
swearing and thinking I could skip the bit where I became someone
wearing clothes and shoes I couldn't fit, heck...even if a bunch
of scary little me's got on their knees and tried to reach the sun
I think I mentioned I could over think?
bottom line is: I thought that I could disappear into thin air
and I was aware of what I'd become
note to self: beware of storytellers
cos once they have begun telling a story
and your concentration is afloat or sunk
the writers of the scripts will try to cut your throat and run
back to the land of the living,
pans labyrinth, man on a mission
I'm a Stan who made the decision to bite the hand he wasn't given
I'll be a "flash in the pan" before a "blasphemous has been"
they told me "run with the wolves or face a sporadical stampede"
and a Plan B's what I lack
but my humble abode's the moment
sleep with one eye open, staring at the ferocious little omen
known as fate, like everybody says
"I think I have been chosen"
when I graduate I think I might destroy a locomotive
See I could have quit by now
But I insist I shall succeed
and if I fail to hit and miss
I'm bound to get a little pissed
ignorance is bliss and marches by the thousand
but as long as I exist I promise this:
in all my power, I'll take the stares and kick the chairs
of those within my field of vision
and if they're negative they're not considered in my decisions any more
what am I planning? just tell me what my raps lack
I'll take my notebook round the world in my waterproof backpack
and I may be wrong
but all I have is all that's saving me
and I blame it all on time
because it fuels my superstitious little fire
and I don't know where I'm headed
all I know is that I'm gonna be fine