Archetype

Outside with it, nothing but a dream Outside with it, nothing but a dream Outside with it, nothing but a dream Outside with it, nothing but a dream Maybe I will step into my light Maybe I will finally do what's right But it won't be for you But it won't be for you You took me for granted You took off my bandages I wasn't healed and I'm not your canvas This isn't art and it's not for sale You can't buy my pain, like it's not conceptual You can't own the space in between my thoughts like real estate I know I'm real, but in my state I look like a beautiful painting of a corpse But you made me pose, of course, mmm You can't make me kneel even with 500K You can't make my people eat cow Just like I can't see eye-to-eye with you somehow Just like you can't see eye-to-eye with your third eye Strip it down next time you cry-cry We're sick and tired of the fake you Be something real, even if it's ugly, shit I said no to so many things when I had convictions Then the world breaks you down and you start to wonder Why you ever said no to begin with Why you ever moved slow in the thickness Why you ever let the one you love fall While holding up a false idol of another infinitely more insignificant friend Was I ever a good friend? Why did I gossip? Why did I pretend I didn't see you when I saw everything? Something I couldn't fathom was how you believed everything I said Even when it was obviously embellished I couldn't tell you this I don't like your art, but I love your heart I don't like your clothes, but I love your mind I don't like your nose, but I love your eyes White girls go to India and do yoga Brown girls fight for their freedom in the caste system We don't know the answers But what happens when you're born with a brown father and a white mother? What happens when you look brown but carry the weight of being a mixed kid In the middle of nowhere else where no one else is? Where you're too brown for the white kids and too watered down for the Vikings And too weird for the artists and too nice for the extremists And too polite for the punks and too cunt for the cum Come here, kid, you're one of us The Archetypes