Help Me!
Help Me
It seems like every time I get through to these fucking people
they look at me like I'm a stranger crying in the fetal.
They tell me that I'm hot I tell them that I'm not but deep down I know I'm as hot as a stove top.
They tell me that I'm strong.
They're singing with every song and
I'm the reason they won't take a hit out of the bong.
But little do they know they are stronger than their own idol,
cause half of these thoughts are borderline suicidal.
And these preachers don't seem to understand
either God's not real or the fucker was never there.
Because it seems like he never had a second to spare
to answer one stupid little kid with a prayer,
whose brother and mother would be screaming at each other
whose boyfriends would be estranged no wonder.
Whose thoughts would be a pounding no wonder
until he couldn't take it and he hid under his cover.
And his world was collapsing just outside of his door.
His mom and his dad were filing for divorce
they argued every night and it became very apparent
that soon he would be losing yet another set of parents.
So imagine how that all came in his mind when he was nine
how could he know love when fear is all that he finds?
How they split and they never gave a good reason.
How could they let their love die this was such a treason!
Survivor syndrome is what these people label it.
says I shouldn't have lived when my friends couldn't handle it
and with that on my mind I still try to act casual
cause all these fucked up thoughts make me an animal.
It is impractical for me to feel valuable
in fact that's the only thought of mine that's rational
And I've been used like hell that's how I got here.
To where I'm spitting my writings better than last year.
And I'm a cocky fuck but I'll admit that,
and if you doubt me then you really betta get back.
It's immature of your to try and bring my mind down.
I've seen my friends fall back while I gained ground.
And I'm no angel I fucked up and I'm human
but cut me a little slack since I'm caught up in this confusion.
I wanna break down but all these people here are listening.
Fuck it. You can't hear the tears on my cheek glistening.
Help me.
So I scream Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
Please Help Me.
Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
Please Help Me.
Help Me
It seems like every time I get through to these fucking people
they look at me like I'm a stranger crying in the fetal.
They tell me that I'm hot I tell them that I'm not but deep down I know I'm as hot as a stove top.
They tell me that I'm strong.
They're singing with every song and
I'm the reason they won't take a hit out of the bong.
But little do they know they are stronger than their own idol,
cause half of these thoughts are borderline suicidal.
And these preachers don't seem to understand
either God's not real or the fucker was never there.
Because it seems like he never had a second to spare
to answer one stupid little kid with a prayer,
whose brother and mother would be screaming at each other
whose boyfriends would be estranged no wonder.
Whose thoughts would be a pounding no wonder
until he couldn't take it and he hid under his cover.
And his world was collapsing just outside of his door.
His mom and his dad were filing for divorce
they argued every night and it became very apparent
that soon he would be losing yet another set of parents.
So imagine how that all came in his mind when he was nine
how could he know love when fear is all that he finds?
How they split and they never gave a good reason.
How could they let their love die this was such a treason!
Survivor syndrome is what these people label it.
says I shouldn't have lived when my friends couldn't handle it
and with that on my mind I still try to act casual
cause all these fucked up thoughts make me an animal.
It is impractical for me to feel valuable
in fact that's the only thought of mine that's rational
And I've been used like hell that's how I got here.
To where I'm spitting my writings better than last year.
And I'm a cocky fuck but I'll admit that,
and if you doubt me then you really betta get back.
It's immature of your to try and bring my mind down.
I've seen my friends fall back while I gained ground.
And I'm no angel I fucked up and I'm human
but cut me a little slack since I'm caught up in this confusion.
I wanna break down but all these people here are listening.
Fuck it. You can't hear the tears on my cheek glistening.
Help me.
So I scream Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
Please Help Me.
Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
So I scream Help Me.
Please Help Me.
Help Me
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.