Me and all of my friends, speak in our own languages, and make up news.
Go over current events, discuss circumstances and personal views
I write and speak in some kind of dialect I mispronounce and misread
And I swear it doesn't come naturally to me,
I look for acceptance in extraversion, but I speak in cursive
I'm lowering my standards, because I love playing the bastard,
Playing safe is much too civil, saving face by faking simple
Am I doing this for me,
is there something beneficial, in admitting defeat,
if I make myself believe, that this is me that this is me,
than is any of this me?
I know you don't ever come around unless you've got something to ask for, and Control's got me ashamed the son of a pastor, and I don't get why I've gotta lie to myself about what is happening, I don't get why I've gotta lie to myself about what is happening , and I don't get why I'm so upset all the time I'm honestly happy
And I know you know you don't gotta listen and I know
and I know, I know I've got tunnel vision