|
Answer
|
Eight years old and he's
|
kicking and screaming
|
"I'll only go to school
|
if you give me a reason
|
The kids are really mean
|
and I already know
|
All the things
|
they're teaching"
|
Hopped in the car,
|
mama let him play hooky
|
Missed the first hour
|
just to get a cup of coffee
|
She's the only one
|
who saw who he was
|
No one else
|
could read him
|
Showing up late
|
but he makes it to class
|
Just to stare out the window
|
and the clock in the back
|
He daydreamed away
|
to a sky so gray
|
Everything's simple,
|
it's driving him mental
|
Wishing everyday that
|
something would change
|
Instead his dad makes
|
him play ball by the bay
|
And every time he cries,
|
father rolls his eyes, saying
|
"Son, it's all your fault,
|
how come you never try?"
|
He does all that he should
|
Why is he misunderstood?
|
This is a story
|
'bout a broken boy
|
With his headphones
|
in just to block out the noise
|
Of everyone around
|
him telling him the way to go
|
So he walks the world alone
|
Wondering if it gets better
|
Or if he's always
|
gonna feel empty forever
|
So he gets lost tryna
|
find another way back home
|
As he walks the world
|
alone
|
Fifteen years and
|
he's drowning his sorrows
|
Smoking weed,
|
drinking cheap liquor out the bottle
|
With a bunch of fake
|
friends 'cause he tried to fit in
|
But it
|
wasn't working
|
Ran in with the
|
law 'bout a dozen of times
|
Nothing too bad,
|
just a few suburban crimes
|
Still he says
|
to himself
|
"What are you doing,
|
you don't deserve this
|
Don't you know nobody
|
will ever understand
|
The person that you are,
|
learn to hold your own hand
|
Get your shit together
|
and lose the weight
|
You'll never be what you want,
|
no, not with that face"
|
He started writing
|
all of his thoughts on paper
|
Realized music made
|
life so much greater
|
A hundred pounds down,
|
he looks so different now
|
As he plans his escape
|
from a crooked hometown
|
He does all that he should
|
Why is he misunderstood?
|
This is a story
|
'bout a broken boy
|
With his headphones
|
in just to block out the noise
|
Of everyone around
|
him telling him the way to go
|
So he walks the world alone
|
Wondering if it gets better
|
Or if he's always
|
gonna feel empty forever
|
So he gets lost tryna
|
find another way back home
|
As he walks the world alone
|
alone alone
|
Twenty-one years and
|
he's on the right path
|
But sometimes he wonders
|
if he grew up too fast
|
And missed out
|
on the little things
|
All of the
|
little things
|
Who is he kidding?
|
Surely not himself
|
But sometimes he wonders
|
if there's somebody else
|
Who takes the same road,
|
but he'll never know
|
'Cause he walks
|
the world alone
|
This is a story
|
'bout a broken boy
|
With his headphones
|
in just to block out the noise
|
Of everyone around
|
him telling him the way to go
|
So he walks
|
the world alone
|
Wondering if
|
it gets better
|
Or if he's always
|
gonna feel empty forever
|
So he gets lost tryna
|
find another way back home
|
As he walks
|
the world alone
|