greetings everyone. umm, i am sole.
ya know, sole, moodswing 9, last poets, ...blah blah blah.
umm, i'd just like to get a chance to clear my name.
ya know, i've been dubbed, as many things, ya know.
but i'm not a martyr. "some things are worth it."
"nothing is easy," is an overstatement, i'm young to know it.
i'm ultimate, permanent. learning 'til terminated,
age insighting visions, major human stage.
this religion is my vice, my best friend,
my knife, my security quilt (a quilt), excessive.
built from adolescence, built to escape,
built and then raised this idol that is picked to fix the gated mantle.
holding it all, 'til i burst limestone, primestone,
i am home, everywhere my soul scrape.
and shakes the air that we breathe,
my palms black all the way. i refuse to b***** my knuckles,
and bruise my shins with giant steps over little people.
poking out these extremities into my van gogh.
the complicated siren song'll do my jingle.
all of these ideals with which i've grown to strangle.
there's a fine line, i walk on the other side.
i've only got one reason not to die.
so as long as my blood runs the color purple,
i am penetrating, choosing sides, allies, and weapons.
i only see in black and white. there is no art of war.
the beauty of is that scars make me a better man and victories make me weak.
stalemates from pushovers, so don't push me,
'cause i've been there, so let me win again (why?),
'cause these victories make me..that's why...
chorus:
everything is worth fighting for.
violence never got me anywhere.
free thought doesn't cost that much.
living is the only thing worth anything.
everything is worth fighting for.
violence never got me anywhere.
free thought doesn't cost that much.
living is the only thing worth anything.
in the second grade, i was passing notes whenever announcements was given,
and everything was made to be taken,
and i was made to learn trials by error. trailing the air,
climbing down from stairs, echoing my, "i won't give up."
tongue claimed why you can't stop this,
i can't go on anymore, it's your fault.
sense of nobility,
for spitting my blood in your face before my body dies.
it's a casting in everything i believe,
and i'm a bitter cynic.
all truth is personal, i believe in myself, people of mod invention,
built to only slow you down, let you down, and try to be down.
so i'm up, armed with two fists, gritted teeth,
and an honesty only shared with the dumbest of martyrs finishing beef.
i plead my, "how ya like me now?"
until i hate myself for being right and acting right.
it's my god-stolen right to only live for lies and die for what i believe.
spitting in the face of opposition.
raise the consequences with open arms and closed eyes,
tensing every abdominal muscle. prepared for the inevitable invasion,
d*** we're dedicated, and dammit, the devistation.
for i understand what it means to hate,
that's why i love with a passion that burns bridges.
chorus
and i've never met anything worth the beating of aleving,
'til i find myself, i've been here the whole time.
ever since then, i live for so-called friends as respective allies,
and soon-to-be enemies.
if you're not for, you're against, pro or con,
and sidelined is an oxymoron, stupid.
i've got a big mouth, a big heart, and a thick head,
and i'm not afraid to use them.
bridges were made to burn.
idols were made to fall off pedestals.
i'm only here temporarily, barely make a mark,
it all starts with a stone.
bridges were made to burn.
idols were made to fall off pedestals.
i'm only here temporarily, barely make your mark,
and it starts with a stone.
everything is worth fighting for. (i am sole).
violence never got me anywhere. (he is moodswing 9).
free thought doesn't cost that much. (anticon).
living is the only thing worth anything.
everything is worth fighting for. (i am sole).
violence never got me anywhere. (he is moodswing 9).
free thought doesn't cost that much. (anticon).
living is the only thing worth anything.
ya know, sole, moodswing 9, last poets, ...blah blah blah.
umm, i'd just like to get a chance to clear my name.
ya know, i've been dubbed, as many things, ya know.
but i'm not a martyr. "some things are worth it."
"nothing is easy," is an overstatement, i'm young to know it.
i'm ultimate, permanent. learning 'til terminated,
age insighting visions, major human stage.
this religion is my vice, my best friend,
my knife, my security quilt (a quilt), excessive.
built from adolescence, built to escape,
built and then raised this idol that is picked to fix the gated mantle.
holding it all, 'til i burst limestone, primestone,
i am home, everywhere my soul scrape.
and shakes the air that we breathe,
my palms black all the way. i refuse to b***** my knuckles,
and bruise my shins with giant steps over little people.
poking out these extremities into my van gogh.
the complicated siren song'll do my jingle.
all of these ideals with which i've grown to strangle.
there's a fine line, i walk on the other side.
i've only got one reason not to die.
so as long as my blood runs the color purple,
i am penetrating, choosing sides, allies, and weapons.
i only see in black and white. there is no art of war.
the beauty of is that scars make me a better man and victories make me weak.
stalemates from pushovers, so don't push me,
'cause i've been there, so let me win again (why?),
'cause these victories make me..that's why...
chorus:
everything is worth fighting for.
violence never got me anywhere.
free thought doesn't cost that much.
living is the only thing worth anything.
everything is worth fighting for.
violence never got me anywhere.
free thought doesn't cost that much.
living is the only thing worth anything.
in the second grade, i was passing notes whenever announcements was given,
and everything was made to be taken,
and i was made to learn trials by error. trailing the air,
climbing down from stairs, echoing my, "i won't give up."
tongue claimed why you can't stop this,
i can't go on anymore, it's your fault.
sense of nobility,
for spitting my blood in your face before my body dies.
it's a casting in everything i believe,
and i'm a bitter cynic.
all truth is personal, i believe in myself, people of mod invention,
built to only slow you down, let you down, and try to be down.
so i'm up, armed with two fists, gritted teeth,
and an honesty only shared with the dumbest of martyrs finishing beef.
i plead my, "how ya like me now?"
until i hate myself for being right and acting right.
it's my god-stolen right to only live for lies and die for what i believe.
spitting in the face of opposition.
raise the consequences with open arms and closed eyes,
tensing every abdominal muscle. prepared for the inevitable invasion,
d*** we're dedicated, and dammit, the devistation.
for i understand what it means to hate,
that's why i love with a passion that burns bridges.
chorus
and i've never met anything worth the beating of aleving,
'til i find myself, i've been here the whole time.
ever since then, i live for so-called friends as respective allies,
and soon-to-be enemies.
if you're not for, you're against, pro or con,
and sidelined is an oxymoron, stupid.
i've got a big mouth, a big heart, and a thick head,
and i'm not afraid to use them.
bridges were made to burn.
idols were made to fall off pedestals.
i'm only here temporarily, barely make a mark,
it all starts with a stone.
bridges were made to burn.
idols were made to fall off pedestals.
i'm only here temporarily, barely make your mark,
and it starts with a stone.
everything is worth fighting for. (i am sole).
violence never got me anywhere. (he is moodswing 9).
free thought doesn't cost that much. (anticon).
living is the only thing worth anything.
everything is worth fighting for. (i am sole).
violence never got me anywhere. (he is moodswing 9).
free thought doesn't cost that much. (anticon).
living is the only thing worth anything.