Self Portrait

Handguns

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    Life is one fucking beauty contest after another
    School, then college, then work
    Fuck that. And fuck the air force academy
    If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly
    You do what you love, and fuck the rest

    Ever since I was a kid
    I knew that I was different
    From the rest with shaking hands
    And a chemically unbalanced head
    I scared the shit out of everyone
    With everything I said
    I always had the hardest time
    Making new friends and
    I still get those headaches
    I did when I was young
    I still forget to watch the words
    That fall off my tongue

    This is a soundtrack
    To a movie
    A motion picture
    That will always move me
    A painted portrait
    Of candid moments
    My heart’s the canvas
    And I’m the illustrator

    A suburban family home
    A bedroom of my own
    A collection of cds
    Stacked up next to
    A blown out stereo
    Were the only things
    That keep me from
    Feeling alone like I had
    Someone to talk to
    It’s hard enough when
    No one seems to get you

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    Most days I feel fine
    And others I feel like
    I’m dying on the inside
    Forcing smiles on the outside
    I’m an optimist and
    A pessimist in one

    This is a soundtrack
    To a movie
    A motion picture
    That will always move me
    A painted portrait
    Of candid moments
    My heart’s the canvas
    And I’m the illustrator

    And if I were to suddenly die
    I’d take a good look back
    At my whole life
    Be proud of the things
    That I said and I did
    I know I wasn’t innocent
    But I’ve always listened
    To the pound of the kick
    And the strum of the pick
    Telling me that this is it

    I’m an optimist and
    A pessimist in one

    This is a soundtrack
    To a movie
    A motion picture
    That will always move me
    A painted portrait
    Of candid moments
    My heart’s the canvas
    And I’m the illustrator
    I couldn’t paint you
    A better picture

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