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letra de hold on - mario william vitale

let’s break all the tension with the pretense of my presence
yes, i’m insensitive–but there’s no other incentive others can give–
and while i’m not sure i could prevent it, i swear to no god i’m inventive!

yes
my hatred is incessant–ever present–and it’s what i hold most sacred
i’m a naughty narcissist with a nasty list of wasted kisses
and i won’t say that i’ll miss ’em, ‘cuz i’m the type who never misses

i’m a hopeless romantic with a new sense of tantric hope
it’s the antics of a frantic mind, but i’m too calm to cope
they say i’m a raving, violent–rarely silent–tyrant with a craving
for the obscene
though, while i’m mean, i’m rarely seen within a mob or in a scene

i’ll admit i’ve got a streak, but–if you’d stop to take a peek–
you’d see a buddhist, not a nudist, who’s less a demon than a geek
i’m oblique and i’m obtuse (do these math puns work for you?) yet i’m rarely never right;
get my angle? catch my drift? i might thrash, but, man, i’m thrift!
hold on shift: i’m screaming now!!
don’t know why; don’t have a cow!
remember that? that 90’s rap? look at me then; that piece of cr-p!
shot down! torn up! shut in! turned out!
lips are sealed; inside i’d shout
’bout just how bad i wanted out!
enraged and crazed; cravin’ razors; a victim hiding from all saviors!
turned to the pen to brace for the knife
started writin’ and saved my life
it’s funny to say my life got better the day i started a suicide letter…

but letters turned to words and those words became whole worlds
and before my very eyes a whole legacy unfurled!
i was god–not just a slob–but a shaper of all things
and the schemes that i’d been dreaming shifted into scribing
and i never stopped since then; it’s why i’m still alive!

so my insanity became vanity as calamity turned to amity
sheer pessimism became untamed narcissism
but if the mind’s a prison then consider me jail broken
outspoken, re-awoken; take a moment to let that soak in
that a boy doubtful of tomorrow could ditch the sorrow
and become an immortal–though immoral, not totally amoral

so yea, i’ve got my faults; i’m a sensory -ssault
and while i don’t mean to offend i’m just a product of the ends
played with fire; i got burned
dared to aspire; i was turned
so i inquire to you sires as i march out of the fires:
you’ve seen my darkness and know my story–beginning, middle, end–

- mario william vitale

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