Such a wicked temper flare, but I thought you didn't care, I guess it's just another line. A pose defending yourself with prose, you're pretty good at spitting out the things that you just read. We're still getting to you, we still get inside your head. I expected so much more you really let me down man. Standing on the side of the stage waiting for the song to end, waiting for one sloppy line so will have something to laugh about for weeks to come with all your friends. It's so easy to judge you never open yourself up, you never put your feeling on the line. How about I do you a favor, let me bring some things to light... there is nothing cool here, there is nothing smooth about the things we do. Just a ma** of blood, dirt and sweat... and that's what I find beautiful. We might make fools of ourselves, we won't explain it's no use, and let me tell you that your jean jacket isn't f**ing bullet proof