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zuò qǔ : Simon, Tenet |
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You never knew me, you looked right through me |
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To your own ends, I was only a pawn |
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In your shadow grew a passionate anger |
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A child often knows more than he lets on |
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I' ve got a bullet. . . come and get it |
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These words are hollow point and aimed at your head |
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From this pen, cocked, ready, and loaded |
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I write your name, as ' put to death' |
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Lie dead. . . unnameable |
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I' ve waited so long, I' ve hated so strong |
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Blinding fury is the beast on my back |
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What kind of coward dares to threaten my mother |
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Telling her, you' ll dance on her head |
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I understand now, the past is right now |
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The things you said are now coming back |
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You told my father that you' d break both his legs |
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Makes me feel like snapping your neck |
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Lie dead. . . your epitaph, reads blackened. . . and unnameable |
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As a young child, hidden in the darkness of your shadow. . . |
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I grew into the power, I grew into the knowledge. . . |
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That before you, there was me. . . that before you, I was free |
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Free to be the child, this child was meant to be |
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Now as an adult, I' ve learned the depth of your lies |
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The depth of your deception. . . |
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And so your name lies dead. . . forsaken. . . forgotten. . . forever |
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Lie dead. . . your epitaph, reads blackened. . . and unnameable |
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Liar |
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It' s not the first time, but it' s the last time |
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That I speak of you in any way |
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Time is tapping at the chip on my shoulder |
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And I don' t need the misery |
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I' ve got a bullet. . . come and get it |
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These words are hollow point and aimed at your head |
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From my pen, cocked, ready, and loaded |
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Don' t even think I ever gave a damn |
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I am my fathers son |