Introvert

I've been making music with contextual confusion
Carry on without a single sight of a conclusion
Obscuring any meaning with abstractions and allusions
Using similes and metaphors to hide all my excuses
Sneak into the syllables, make the order obsolete
Take a simple story and then turn it into sophistry
I'd rather be alone inside of imagery and obstinance
Misery loves company. Honesty's the opposite
In my isolation the story gets distorted
I realize I don't recognize the songs that I'm performing
When contorting the consonants, certainty is an issue
I don't know the back of my own hand like I used to
I'd give you some clarity, if I was compelled
I'd give you the truth, if I had a truth to tell
I'd would give you sincerity if I had some myself
But I've given up more times than I've given anything.
Over thirty odd years there's one thing that I learned
I'm a liar at best. I'm an artist at worst
You shouldn't trust the voice that is coming through the speaker
You may never know me. I don't know me either.
Purposely perplexed myself penciling the verses
Making sure the character never closes the curtain
Been involved in the project from the cradle to the coffin
And it took me this long to realize that I'm the problem
Each event is true. It starts with a blueprint
Embellish all the pieces piquing questions and confusion
I swore that I would stop but I'm addicted to the habit
Of concealing the particulars so you don't know what happened
I am a coward. I looked you in the eye.
You recited my words despite the times I tried
To tamper with the evidence and clean all up the scenes
So your investigations never learn what it really means
It's cliche to say that there's a stranger in the mirror
It's more accurate to say that there's a stranger in the speaker
I even changed my name to try and run from the past
I'd promise that I'm different. I can't swear it'll last



Credits
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