scarred hearts / remix

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Scarred Hearts (Remix)
Rogue Hearts: The Remixed Sound Collection (2011)

lyrics

This is not a song- it’s a session of vomiting purging my psychological stomach of all its troubles
I’m not as strong as I’m infected with iniquity contributing this misery- my spirit’s under rubble
Sitting now in this dimly lit expanse- I'm afflicted with reflections of my previous romantics
I held her hand, but she was clearly in a trance, when euphoria was managed, she abandoned me and vanished
I need a feather that will lead me to an angel, to restore me to the specimen who used to be so capable
I hear the message but I'm deafened to the context, dilemma is complex, this chain is inescapable
I’m basting in a situation that’s relatable- and yet my cellular is faced with limited activity
There’s over 12 billion hands on this planet, but not one is extended to my vicinity. literally
I need her now- despite indefinite efforts to convince myself with every single lecture- just forget her
So watch me pull myself together, with the help of Helter Skelter- cleverly adapted to this padded shelter
-(You know...) You’re really pretty, and I’m sure if I were normal we would make a perfect couple with the cuddling and giggles
-But notice that I'm a zombie, I’m infected with a virus spilling words on this papyrus that are far from artificial
You’re sympathetic, but I know you’re hypocritical these women are assassins underneath all the seduction
And in this market, I’m a hated politician, but my entourage is funded, so you can’t bring all of those guns in
I’m not a pessimist, I could elaborate and you’d be first to hear my story ‘cause no one was ever curious
It’s not the fact that I’m not wishing for the best... just the best is something I don’t think I’ve ever had experienced
I try to watch the sun rise, but every single time I go outside it gets hazy and starts raining
I’m trying to make things right- but my writing hand is broken from boxing 12 rounds with frustration
My gut’s aching- if love is a battlefield, I’m down to my last appendage as I’m screaming for a medic.
If I could tell her one thing-- It would have to be I love her but the fist of her lover makes me regret it

So thank you for the scars, baby, thank you for the lesson
And apology accepted, but I’m already tormented
You could say you truly loved me -you could say this love was precious
But it doesn’t make a difference if it wasn’t your intention

Now look at what you’ve done to me, you took away the sun from me, so now I’m barely less than a shadow of what I used to be
-I fell asleep so comfortably, you promised me security, the fact that I believed it reflecting my immaturity
...I fell for every single thing-you-said- a single thread’s the measure preventing me from insanity
I take a pill for the insomnia to calm the mitochondria, so God heal this spiritual depravity
My only issue is the fact that I’m so bitter and I figure its like liquor- it’s my most precious commodity
I’m recalling your commitment to our future so I dash into the universe- to find you weren’t following
And It’s ironic but its easier to spill my heart and guts and deepest secrets to that figure thats anonymous
And every cretin comes speaking with that witty observation that my physical features are lacking proper rest
You seem concerned at my emotional crying but yet it’s obvious your prying is purely of obligation
Do me a favor, I don’t want your hard labor- when its blatant that you’re faking your pity communication
I’m steady pacing- this brazen emptiness is giving way to these temptations- I bathe in dark feelings
...These reoccurring visions haunt me when I’m sleeping- and that dream catcher on the ceiling harboring these demons
If all possible, please save me from this obstacle, I’m searching for a scapegoat to blame all of my losses on
...But I realized by staring in this monocle- perhaps it’s my fault for simply being irresponsible
(Nak, how’ve you been?) Well lately, it’s been gravy... But I think found the lady, or the one I call my “baby”
-And I think she’s made for me, and I’m thinking fate’s with me- and I can’t believe I was so naive to say those things
I won’t deny that I'm internally bloody but I’m learning that these stupid mistakes will make me stronger
-despite the open gashes, God use it to my benefit, these wounds are like me medicine- I’m feeble no longer
-murder me, deserted me dirtily, a disease so cleverly manifested as my rescue
-I thank God that you hurt me, if it wasn’t for your workings- I would still be that weak little boy before I met you

So thank you for the scars, baby, thank you for the lesson
And apology accepted, but I’m already tormented
You could say you truly loved me -you could say this love was precious
But it doesn’t make a difference if it wasn’t your intention

credits

from All Songs (2009 - 2016), released April 16, 2017
Lyrics: NAK
Production: Kettel
Engineering: Bakoda (cultclassicrecords.bandcamp.com)

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about

nak Chino, California

A Filipino-American lyricist, rapper, poet and chronically depressed, irrational over-thinker, teacher, graduate student, and registered nurse from Chino, California. This is shy rap. Repentance despite feeling forsaken. Lyricism at its lowest. Emotional music for introverted people. Sounds for the hopeful. Living proof that God could use losers. Music best enjoyed alone. ... more

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