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
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