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Anxious Outcast
par
Clayton Jennings
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Letra
I'm a lyrical lyricist Another masterpiece just to add to the list Toss me a pen, and I got this Lebron to AD, I don't miss the assist And don't call me a Laker now that Kobe's gone If you think you know me, you're wrong Young face but old soul Sometimes I wish I had somebody to hold Or somebody to hold me Comfort for the hurt caused by the lies the Devil sold me You couldn't pay me a billion dollars to go back to the old me I just wish somebody I trusted would've told me That if it's not the bread of life, it's moldy Molded, but instead I got scolded Kindness leads to repentance, but none was given to me So the words of Bible-thumpers with no love in their hearts means nothing to me I'm looking for the ones who read red letters without red eyes I'm looking for someone spiritual who isn't the Devil in disguise Suicidal kids listening to the Devil when he lies Millions of views, and a year later, man time flies I read your comments and wipe my eyes That poem saved so many lives And it kept a whole lotta people here But I became a target, and I can feel the Devil when he's near I feel the warmth of his breath when he whispers words of worthlessness into both of my ears Being alone is what I most fear You can ask Jamie, I always have to have somebody nearby But not too close, either If I had to choose between either, I'd prefer neither Oh, Clayton, poor thing, my little dear, what's the deal? You woulda killed yourselves a hundred times by now if you knew how I feel But I keep waking up and walking forward I'll still get there, but it takes me a while like my old broken-down Ford With it's broken-down doors And it's fifteen-inch kicker in the back Catch me in the Bronco bumpin' Hillsong one minute, the next, hip-hop and trap Double genres or double-minded? Lookin' for stability, but I can't find it Searching for dirt on me, here's a pile of business, mind it To my daughter, here's a pile of diamonds, mine it To my critics, here's a noose, tie it Not for yourselves, for me Praying to God I don't live to be forty They hate them some Clayton Jennings, oh Lordy, oh Lordy But back to this poetry, the irrelevant bore me Half a million on YouTube, we did it Every benchmark they said we'd miss, we hit it So here's a toast to up up and away Trying to stay faithful to my wife, but I'm a sl*t to this day Is that too real for me to say? Keepin' it one hundred, I guess God made me this way I made mistakes I can't take away Mistakes on replay as I lay awake Feelings of shame that I can't shake But then I'm reminded that my past is my past And I passed past my past the last time I passed it The critics take my past, exaggerate it, and blast it Other people take their sins, hide it, and mask it I put mine out for everyone like here, look at this trash, kids I swear on everything, it works like magic I'm not talking about Shaq and Penny I swear people feel freedom when they realize they're not the only ones struggling with sinning And then I take that L from my critics but flip it right back into winning I'm walking closer to God than the people telling me I should be repenting I don't repent for stuff that's not true Unless it was, and then I did, it's forgotten like a balloon to the blue In other words, I let it go Blizzards cover my sins, so God let it snow Me and God are good to go People so self-righteous, they act like they don't struggle with sinning I just took things overboard in that pic flipping birds while grinning But to be honest, that's how I feel about this system of religion If you know someone who can take away this anger in me, then get 'em It's Jesus, Clayton, jeez, would ya listen? If not to me, to yourself? What you guys don't know is my poetry sits on this shelf I don't even listen to myself I don't think it would be good for my health Like a glutton for food with a whole lot of wealth Wanna know the truth? I'd puke because I'd be seeing my guts I couldn't stomach it It's not for me, but I'm glad so many of you are lovin' it It's just therapy for me to write and record I didn't know it would turn into a line of fans at my door Clayton, make more, make more You saved my marriage, you saved my life You saved my dad, you saved my wife Woah, this just started as poetry for me to get stuff off my chest I'd figure maybe a couple hundred would listen at best Hundreds of millions of views later, and I'm wondering what's next I don't know how much more of this inspiration inside of me I have left I wonder what would happen if I just left There are a whole lotta people watchin' now the last time that I checked So I'm starting to understand the size of the impact my actions affect Some people open their hearts up and take my passion direct And they sit back like listening to this poetry is surgery And they get a boost from these words like a jolt of electricity They get a surge from me Clayton, can you make some more poetry? Of course, well certainly How do you rhyme like that? I don't know, these are just words to me You say I'm anointed, but it's a curse to me To wander through life casually Getting thousands of messages from people asking me To help, help, help Can you help me, please, help me? They need me is what they tell me Lies are what they sell me Because if I died today, I'd be forgotten tomorrow People don't own anything, they only like to borrow So they don't own their love for me, they just borrow my poetry like it's drugs to me, right? Each rhyme another line to snort I could prescribe a million of these poems, but you'd still want more Do I have fans or patients? I'm still not sure I'm trying to fade from the spotlight, most people want more You think about the shells, I think about drowning myself when I stand on the shores I remember being curled up, suicidal on the floor My head hurts and my soul is sore I opened up to you, and you just want more So here's a list of who I am I'm an anxious outcast whose mental stability is dire Now take that list and set it on fire Sometimes I hate myself, am I preaching to the choir? If so, I better turn around and preach to the crowd Turn this up if you got it turned down Trying to walk the narrow path, but I keep getting turned around I belong on the table that's lost but not found And it's weird because people treat me like I'm a boss when I'm around The only boss I have had thorns for a crown So I talk to Him when I'm down And He tells me He loves me, and I just listen And then He reminds me of my purpose, tell the world is the mission
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