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letra de create - ikewaya

written on my walls, written on my wall
written on my walls, written on my walls, written on my w—
written on my walls, written on my walls
written on my wall, written on my walls, written on my w—
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?
written on my walls, written on my walls
written on my walls, written on my wall, written on my w—

blowing up my brain and i’m going insane
i’ll never be as simple as wayne or as clever the same
i’d rather take a stick to the brain and i’m sick to the pain
and ripping the chains and flipping the plates, and a chick, a victim of rape
but you left a tip in the face in the face, and they expecting the change
like a whip to a slave, what a sickening taste
but all the thinking can’t change nothing
but the thinking can distract from the age coming
well f-cking say something, you left the ace bluffing
what the f-ck can you create when you take nothing?
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?

written on my walls, written on my walls
written on my walls, written on my wall, written on my w—
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?

what kind of person were you? you left a curse in a [?]
sticking the grave for a brain and that is hurtfully true
lost in delusion of faith just to prove to your peers
how you can move to a city and make a movement appear
but you just sit in a chair, the king of losers embarr-ssing
there is no way for [?] to compare it then perish
leave your psyche for the kids to inherit
it’s like a cipher of my personality’s anatomy
does not apply when it is only the half of me
half degrees and tragedies and hacking trees and j-panese and half of these are happening
and [?] actually the masterpiece (how the f-ck can a kid survive, huh?)
(when does adult come and steal your eyes, huh?) what’s the point of growing up if you’re all just gonna die?
i guess i gotta show ’em without touching the sky

written on my walls, written on my wall
written on my walls, written on my wall, written on my w—
written on my walls, written on my wall
written on my walls, written on my walls, written on my w—
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?
what the f-ck can a kid create?

[outro: george carlin]
i don’t like words that hide the truth. i don’t like words that conceal reality. i don’t like euphemisms or euphemistic language. and american english is loaded with euphemisms, because americans have a lot of trouble dealing with reality. americans have trouble facing the truth, so they invent the kind of a soft language to protect themselves from it. and it gets worse with every gener—

- ikewaya

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