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lirik lagu romanic – john wesley

it’s like it’s my own funeral, all black, suited up
walk to the wake, look down, “what have you become?”
admit to myself that i never loved you enough
“he’s already gone, why did you leave him in a pool of blood?”

if you have answers, opinions are a dime a dozen
whether you’re a priest, politician, teacher, wife, or husband
transgendered, h-m-phobic, know-it-all, liar, puppet
preheat to 500 degrees and climb inside an oven
in other words, your opinion’s worth about as much
. . . as your opinions when your mouth is shut
life is beautiful; it’s still filled with downs and ups
no wonder beliefs are shouting “can’t believe you doubted us”
now isn’t this ironic, a rapper with opinions
saying that your views will never really make a difference
they’re independently depending on your sick existence
which means, the wrong ones have you -ssuming the position
i’m older, angrier, guess i have a gift
and you could disagree, i’m pretty sure that i would insist
this is a very lovely world to keep your mind when it’s sick
what a great day to take a selfie while you drive off a cliff
which should be the only time you do that, make sure you update your status
and your kids are on their ipads while you weave in heavy traffic
make sure your snap shat is
functional so when you crash and decapitate your family the last thing you can do is instagram it
this is what happens, i can’t explain it i’m forever persistent
to everyone texting right now this letter is written
or staring off in your phone, and would never listen
in 100 years it will be like you never existed
i want to go somewhere i can be mad all the time
where n-body has to wonder what’s on my mind
floating on this heroine cloud of mine
i can’t stand it or understand it why you would listen
to the frantic rantings of a manic romantic’s monologue

i’m just looking for a fire starter; every song’s my final offer
until forever’s the duration that i am signing off for
i don’t feel right when i am not writing
what is the relationship between our choices and god’s timing
i’ll show you what happens when push comes to shove
backed up in a corner, sort of, when you got put in the trunk
cause you’re an internet bully and i wouldn’t allow
happy chanukah here’s a hacksaw; put your foot in your mouth
don’t make put a lifeless body on a see saw
and play in broad day, i’ll be caught, i know you’ve seen saw
what, you want a hatchet, so you can hack it clean off?
how’s it feel, f-ggot, kill yourself, f-cking r-t-rd
you sit behind a screen daily masked in anonymity
critiquing everything with a century of indemnity
pull you through the screen, eventually
said it wasn’t meant to be sent to me, what’s the penalty of your sentencing?
i just told you through a fantasy i was imagining
this is what happens when my insecurities make a p-ss at me
if you can’t relate you laugh at what somebody is battling
but to me it’s like balancing on a beam covered in vaseline
i like the life i have and feel it’s highly sought after
and i mean that humbly, with grat-tude, i am not a rapper
just a person who writes an awful lot in his personal time
likes a couple rappers and tries to bring his journal to life

i want to go somewhere i can be mad all the time
where n-body has to wonder what’s on my mind
floating on this heroine cloud of mine
i can’t stand it or understand it why you would listen
to the frantic rantings of a manic romantic’s monologue

- john wesley

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