Choose your misguided words
all that you turn into bullets
from the throne you have, they ricochet
'cause you believe you have no regrets
and you think you're never the problem
but hey, if you think in your shoes it fits
let's go with the narrative
isn't that all you want?
'Cause this is the make-believe, you're right
picking scars, deciding those you want to fight
and I'm sick and tired being
the one offering the wreaths
but everything you ever do is
trample and lie beneath your breaths.
Choose your misguided silence
burn good things you used to have
all down in ashes 'cause
you're afraid of seeing your flaws
but you're so fearful of
walking through the room you scorch.
'Cause you have faith in your faults
climb over the clouds hoping it rains
a temporary salvation, calling you a hero
and I'm so sick and tired of wanting
you to change but no, the walls of
insecurity are haphazard in the makings.
Choose to cover your world from the flames
you've started on your device
embroiled in your so-called agony, you'll survive
and yet you still pick the
hatchet digging your own grave
just live with the guilt, die with the
mistakes you never call your own.
