In Your Head

Use gasoline when the house is on fire,

I reach the top, but the ladder gets higher,

Sometimes I wanna let go of the rungs,

The people cheer while I spit on their praises,

They ask me why and I lie to their faces,

“It’s nothing, I don’t care. How did I sound?”

 

I dream of fame when all I really wanna do is disappear,

I’m in a cage where bars are made of words that I will never hear,

Where quality is all that matters and your doubts are your best friend,

Where every good idea you’ve ever had sounds fucked up even in your head

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

A lot of anger in this one, and much of it seems directed toward the self. A lot of judgment, too, born of perfectionism. Self defeat can destroy the strongest of creative urges.