Open Book
People don't ask me what I think because they often overlook
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.
It's hard to describe what the inner self is like.
It's a maze to my own eyes, and in the dark I search for light.
I can't light a match in here for the fear it might catch fire;
for when I look into myself, I see all my dark desire.
Feel the spiders crawling out and the skeletons arise
from the closet where they're kept where I hide what I despise.
Other times I have no matches to light myself up-
to smoke out what has been driving me as I look for what's corrupt.
I don't always go in looking for the evil things inside,
but I'm still equally blinded to myself as I collide
with my consciousness, demanding that it show me all it knows.
I don't know much about myself, that's what I'm looking to expose.
My physique is unimportant, from my secretive perspective,
and it's always been that way because my time is too expensive.
Yet I thrive on your attention, and I'll covet your reception.
And if you're not living right, then sometimes my condescension
will appear and will assert that I am better than you.
But I'm diligent, hard working, and I prefer to follow through.
I am plagued by inadequacies behind my lines of pride.
I will work till I am dead if that means perfected design.
I'm paralyzed by fearfulness when idleness appears.
Though I do my best to stand it, I live stooped beneath its gears.
I'm a leader, and you'll see that even when I'm not in charge.
People listen to my words so I'm prone to be at large.
I love music with a passion. That's how I express reactions,
and if I'm writing down some words, well, then I'm filled with satisfaction.
I can't see inside of me, but others open like a scroll.
I have vision that is keen, prone to see inside your soul.
If you don't want me to see you, then I'd better close my eyes.
For your motives roll likes dies, falling from your masked disguise.
I find talking to be easy when others would be queasy.
And my strength at speaking words makes me friends that I know briefly.
But when someone shares their truths that no one else shall hear,
I lock them up inside, and I treasure them as dear.
I care for all around me, and I love them all so sweetly.
If you offer me your whole then I'll love it all completely.
I'm romantic to the max, more than anybody knows,
but that's something that I'm saving till I'm ready to propose.
Things don't come to me with ease. For me life is not a breeze,
but I'll push on trying harder, despite humanity's disease.
I'm a human, which makes me weak, something of which I'll gladly speak,
but when it comes down to myself, I'd rather have it be oblique.
Perhaps I speak too earnestly, perhaps you didn't care.
Perhaps I am nobody, and perhaps I'm worn for wear.
People don't ask me what I think because they often overlook
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.
It's hard to describe what the inner self is like.
It's a maze to my own eyes, and in the dark I search for light.
I can't light a match in here for the fear it might catch fire;
for when I look into myself, I see all my dark desire.
Feel the spiders crawling out and the skeletons arise
from the closet where they're kept where I hide what I despise.
Other times I have no matches to light myself up-
to smoke out what has been driving me as I look for what's corrupt.
I don't always go in looking for the evil things inside,
but I'm still equally blinded to myself as I collide
with my consciousness, demanding that it show me all it knows.
I don't know much about myself, that's what I'm looking to expose.
My physique is unimportant, from my secretive perspective,
and it's always been that way because my time is too expensive.
Yet I thrive on your attention, and I'll covet your reception.
And if you're not living right, then sometimes my condescension
will appear and will assert that I am better than you.
But I'm diligent, hard working, and I prefer to follow through.
I am plagued by inadequacies behind my lines of pride.
I will work till I am dead if that means perfected design.
I'm paralyzed by fearfulness when idleness appears.
Though I do my best to stand it, I live stooped beneath its gears.
I'm a leader, and you'll see that even when I'm not in charge.
People listen to my words so I'm prone to be at large.
I love music with a passion. That's how I express reactions,
and if I'm writing down some words, well, then I'm filled with satisfaction.
I can't see inside of me, but others open like a scroll.
I have vision that is keen, prone to see inside your soul.
If you don't want me to see you, then I'd better close my eyes.
For your motives roll likes dies, falling from your masked disguise.
I find talking to be easy when others would be queasy.
And my strength at speaking words makes me friends that I know briefly.
But when someone shares their truths that no one else shall hear,
I lock them up inside, and I treasure them as dear.
I care for all around me, and I love them all so sweetly.
If you offer me your whole then I'll love it all completely.
I'm romantic to the max, more than anybody knows,
but that's something that I'm saving till I'm ready to propose.
Things don't come to me with ease. For me life is not a breeze,
but I'll push on trying harder, despite humanity's disease.
I'm a human, which makes me weak, something of which I'll gladly speak,
but when it comes down to myself, I'd rather have it be oblique.
Perhaps I speak too earnestly, perhaps you didn't care.
Perhaps I am nobody, and perhaps I'm worn for wear.
People don't ask me what I think because they often overlook
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.
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