I'm not the greatest writter.Oh,I'm not the greatest,no.
I'm not perfect,nor even novelist.This time you better listen up.
Oh!Life have barely changed.
Twenty two,still pissed,plenty of shits in the backpack and nikes on my feet.
Many pieces are missing since I came back home.
I can't deal with my own life,I'm incomplete.
Another empty wreck...Shit!
I'm just the shell of a man which is absent.
I'm wearing his skin but I'm partially vacant.
What I have is far from being gold but I write open hearted, my balls in the inkwell.
**** it,I'm done with swallowing bullshit since hitting it off has become an addiction.
I needed more than these words going nowhere to show you that this life is not such a poem.
Some black clouds will get so much bigger no matter how lucky I am.
I've never learned how to live with the thunder.
My heart is a lighting rod and I'm walking under a thunderstorm mesmerized by the lights.
With my eyes half shut.
I do live through these lines,writing this song just to say what I got to.
I need much more than these words just to show you that it's a struggle to be able to believe in this life.
Hey! Hey! I write with my heart open.
Hey! Hey! Even if It can be so callous.
Hey! Hey! Just listen.
This heartbeat have so much to say.
 I just can't keep it in. I just won't it in.
I'm not the greatest writer and this isn't the greatest song.
I'm not perfect,nor even novelist, I'm not saint, I'm not a ****ing prophet.
**** this, I'm just drifting.
I keep moving pushed by the movement.
I'm still trying to pull the strings of my ****ing life.
Oh,you can keep the pain,the fame,the money and the whore [03:32.02
"My friends,you better listen!
This man you see now isn't totally different, along the road he thought he'll found himself,
a ****ing sense at these goddamn feelings".
 I'm just the shell of a man which is absent.
I'm wearing his skin but I'm partially vacant.
What I have is far from being gold but I write open hearted,my balls in the inkwell.
**** it,I'm done with swallowing bullshit since hitting it off has become an addiction.
I needed more than these words going nowhere to show you that this life is not such a poem.
I'm just the shell of a man which is absent.
I wear his skin but I'm partially vacant.
My heart is a lighting rod and I'm walking under a thunderstorm mesmerized by the lights.